


Old Habits

by bardicbumblebee



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, POV Trevor Belmont, Season 3 fix-it, Trauma Recovery, gratuitous use of em dashes, trevor use your words challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23062576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardicbumblebee/pseuds/bardicbumblebee
Summary: “I do think there are parts of this world worth saving. You’re— you’re one of those parts. You make me think the shitty parts are... Worth it, I suppose. Or bearable. It’s just. Too much to handle. I have to keep a clear head or I can’t do my job.” Sypha puts her hand on his, where it’s tangled in her hair.“I know, Trevor. I thought you’d changed since Gresit.” Her face falls. “I guess that was too much to ask for.”Trevor laughs bitterly.“Old habits die hard, I suppose.”After Lindenfeld, Trevor and Sypha pay Alucard a visit while they regroup.or, how to help an emotionally damaged vampire when you’re also severely traumatised.Set post- s3.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades, Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Comments: 122
Kudos: 483





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much to my boy percy for beta'ing this- je t'adore!!
> 
> this chapter has implied sexual assault very briefly.

On the road back from Lindenfeld, Sypha is silent. The circles under her eyes are pronounced, and although her eyes are as bright as ever, there is a certain sadness to them that Trevor feels like a punch in the gut. His shoulder throbs. Sypha’s lower lip trembles slightly. She notices him looking, and although anyone else wouldn’t be able to gauge her reaction, he knows her well enough to see the slight shift of her eyes, the careful adjustment of her posture. Her hands shake where they’re clasped in her lap, and moved by an uncharacteristic tenderness, Trevor lets go of the reins of their cart and covers her small hands with his. She yanks her hands away and glares at him ferociously.

“Sypha, darling, I—” He starts, but she puts a finger to his lips and her voice is low and spiked with venom as she growls,

“Are you _fucking_ heartless? How can you just— how can you just sit here? Do you feel nothing? Do you not care? You saw those damn shoes, you saw the bodies, you know what he did, and you’re just sitting there! You don’t even seem bothered!” There are tears streaming down her face and Trevor is struck by how full of life she is. He can’t respond, can only sit there and watch as she burns up from the inside. Her shoulders are hunched and she shakes as waves of fury rock her.

“How can you be so cold, Trevor?”

He wants to hold her, but he’s frozen in place by her words. “I— I don’t know, Sypha,” he admits, “There’s been. So much. If I stopped to cry over every horror I saw in this god _forsaken_ country I’d have drained myself dry.” He stops abruptly as he sees her eyes harden.

“So you just decided to ignore them? Why? Are you scared, Trevor Belmont?” Trevor’s jaw twitches. “I’ve seen you fight. I’ve seen your fury. I know it’s in there, Trevor, I know you can feel things, but you just choose not to?”

“Sypha, you don’t understand, it’s not a matter of fear, it’s a matter of—” She fixes him with a glare that could melt steel.

“You, Trevor Belmont, are a _fucking_ coward. You’re going to just leave those children? Without even burying them? Without telling their families what happened?” There are tears streaming down her face.

“You disgust me,” She chokes out.

Trevor feels like he’s imploding. He can feel anger rising hot in his chest, and he doesn’t bother to stop it as his voice rises in a crescendo of rage. “Fine, if you want to go back to that _bloody_ village and bury those _fucking_ children, I’ll come with. I might even shed a tear or two. But don’t you ever, _ever_ , call me a coward again. I’ve seen things you can’t even comprehend, darling. This world’s a shithole, and I’m sorry that this is how you’re finding out, but no amount of righteous fucking speaker _bullshit_ can change that.”

Sypha looks shocked. Her blue, blue, eyes are red-rimmed and it looks like every emotion she’s ever felt is clawing its way out through her chest. Her face contorts into a mask of pain and anger, and her hand raises and lands, hard, on his face. Trevor clutches his cheek and feels his facade slowly crumble. His vision grows blurry. He feels a tear slowly tracing the pucker formed by his scar. “God,” He croaks, “I’m sorry, Sypha— I was too harsh, you know I didn’t—” She cuts him off.

“I was the only girl in an entire caravan of speakers. My grandfather loved me, you know he did, but there was only so much he could do to protect me— do you really think that I haven’t learned firsthand how fucked up this world is? The only difference between me and you, Trevor, is that I choose to see the parts of it that are worth saving!” She folds in on herself, arms tracing over the scars on her shoulder, and looks away from him. Trevor reaches out and touches the back of her neck, blunt fingers tracing through her hair, still streaked with ash and grime.

“I do,” he tentatively whispers, “I do think there are parts of this world worth saving. You’re— you’re one of those parts. You make me think the shitty parts are... Worth it, I suppose. Or bearable. It’s just. Too much to handle. I have to keep a clear head or I can’t do my job.” Sypha puts her hand on his, where it’s tangled in her hair.

“I know, Trevor. I thought you’d changed since Gresit.” Her face falls. “I guess that was too much to ask for.” Trevor laughs bitterly.

“Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

The tension in the air has dissipated somewhat, and Sypha turns to face him, and says, “So where to next?” Trevor shakes his head.

“I don’t know, Sypha. Maybe we should just lay low for a while. Rest. We aren't of any use if we’re exhausted.”

“Where would we go?” Trevor smiles slightly.

“I think we should pay Alucard a visit. It’s been a while.”

~~~

The rest of their journey goes by in companionable silence. Trevor can still feel Sypha’s disappointment, but it’s overlaid with a kind of resigned tenderness that says, _I see you_ , and _I won’t try to change you_ , and _I love you as you are_. The first leaves of spring tint the afternoon light pale green and dapple their little wagon with sunlight.

He sighs, softly, and kisses Sypha on the forehead. She laces her fingers with his. They are slim in between, and he wonders how the hell she’s managed to keep her fingernails clean throughout the whole damn battle. Trevor’s slowly realizing that there are more things about Sypha that he doesn’t know than he thinks. His thoughts drift, from Sypha and all her little intricacies, to Alucard, alone in his castle with nothing but cobwebs and cold stone to keep him company. He wonders how he’s holding up. The road slowly transitions from dirt to cobble, and Trevor begins to see the signs of habitation. He can see a worn path in the grass that leads down to a small creek, and there are scuff marks in the dirt beside the road that match the footprints of a man carrying something very heavy. A wheel track speaks to a wheelbarrow being carted, perhaps full of stones to fix the road or maybe soil to start the garden.

Alucard had said something about a garden, before they had left.

He feels a sudden stab of panic. “Sypha, do you think Alucard’s okay on his own?” She laughs a little.

“Trevor, aside from me, Alucard’s the only person who can beat you in a fight. I highly doubt he’s in any kind of danger.” She laughs, voice jarringly high-pitched. Trevor frowns.

“Darling, we both know that’s not what I meant,” He grimaces. “You know how Alucard gets sometimes.” Sypha smiles wanly.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

~~~

Alucard’s not fine. That much is obvious as they approach the castle. The smell of death and decay hits the back of Trevor’s throat, and he turns to Sypha with a look of horror. Her brows knit together. “Maybe it’s nothing! Maybe there were night creatures or… or… maybe he’s killed a deer or something… I mean, we left after the battle at the castle, maybe he just hasn’t cleaned up yet!” She frowns. They both know that Alucard’s not the type to let a mess go unchecked. “I’m sure he’s fine, Trevor. Alucard can handle anything—”

She stops abruptly, her voice rising to a scream of terror.

There are two bodies on either side of the grand entry. They are dressed in faded white nightgowns, and there are wooden stakes holding them upright. They are half decomposed, limbs stiff and grotesque. A man and a woman. Trevor holds his shirt over his nose, trying to avoid breathing in the stench.

“Sypha, tie up the wagon. We should go in on foot.”

She climbs down from the seat and ties their horses to a nearby tree. The air between them is tight with unspoken words.

_We never should have left him._

_Alucard trusted us._

_He said he’d be okay._

_What happened?_

Trevor grasps Sypha’s hand, tight, and creeps up to the body of the man.

He tries to stay calm. He tries to think logically, but his mind is racing with questions and the knowledge that Alucard most likely killed these people and also most likely chose to display them like this reminds him eerily of Dracula. Trevor refuses to entertain the possibility that Alucard has gone the same way as his father and instead chooses to examine the body.

Judging by the state of the decomposition and the mold that’s beginning to collect on the damp nightshirt, it’s a couple of weeks old at least. Oddly, the bodies don’t appear to have been touched by animals, and there’s only the evidence of insects that would give away that the bodies had been out in the open for so long. Trevor communicates this to Sypha, and they silently agree to not discuss the connotations of this.

“Shall we go in?” Sypha asks.

He nods, wordlessly, and pushes against the heavy doors. They swing open despite their size, the hidden mechanisms inside still running smoothly. The entrance hall is almost the same as when they left. There have been some attempts at cleaning, and the bodies of Carmilla’s guard are gone, but there are still bloodstains on the flagstones and the tapestries on the walls hang torn and askew. Trevor takes a breath.

“Alucard?” He calls out. “Where are you?”

“We’ve come home,” Sypha adds.

There is a rush of air.

“You came too late.”

Trevor hears Sypha scream as the cold steel of a blade kisses her throat. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor and Sypha start to realize the extent of the damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again! thank u to percy for beta'ing for me!! you are an angel among men  
> also- thank you all so much for the support!!!! please don't feel shy to shoot me a message on any of my socials or leave a comment on this work!

Alucard hovers in the air behind them.

His ridiculously long sword is held underneath Sypha’s jawline.

Trevor can see Alucard’s sword hand tremble.

“Alucard—” he presses the blade tighter.

A bead of blood drips down her neck. “I’ll kill her. Don’t think I won’t.”

The tension in the room is unbearable. Alucard’s fangs are bared in a grimace of pain, and although he’s not visibly wounded, he looks much the worse for wear. There are old bloodstains on his fine silk shirt, and his eyes are hollow and sunken. Silent tears roll down Sypha’s cheeks. Trevor’s frozen in place, he can’t breathe, and as he meets her eyes she mouths,

"I’m sorry."

Trevor snaps. He draws his whip from its place at his belt and flings it around Alucard’s ankles with practiced ease. Everything happens at once.

Sypha screams, “NO!” and reaches her hand out to him.

Alucard’s grip loosens on his sword as it falls to the ground.

Trevor’s whip grazes Alucard’s leg, tearing his pants and drawing bright red blood.

All of a sudden, Alucard’s on the ground, his golden hair spread in a halo around his head, and his whole body is wracked with sobs that sound like they’re being dragged out of him. Sypha, the angel that she is, rushes to cradle his head in her hands and glares at Trevor until he joins them on the flagstones. Alucard’s voice is rough from disuse as he rasps, “I’m sorry. God, Sypha, I’m sorry—” He breaks down into another bout of sobs, and Trevor cautiously puts his hand on Alucard’s head and strokes his hair.

“Alucard—” He says, and his voice cracks on his name, “We wanted to see you— what’s going on here? Why are there—” Alucard growls in his ear.

“Shut the fuck up.” Trevor nods silently and continues to stroke Alucard’s hair. Surprisingly, he doesn’t pull away. Sypha mouths something at Trevor that he can’t make out. He looks at her questioningly, and she shakes her head. Cautiously, she speaks to him like one would a cornered animal.

“Alucard, we have a wagon tied in the front yard. We have provisions— I don’t know how much food you have in the castle, but there’s plenty of flour and salted meat and…” She trails off. Alucard’s sobs have subsided somewhat, but he’s still trembling and can’t seem to find it in himself to shake Trevor’s hand off. Trevor picks up where Sypha left off.

“We don’t have to stay if you don’t want us to. We need to rest for a bit, so we’ll be in the area, but we can sleep in the wagon or find an inn somewhere if you don’t want visitors.” Alucard doesn’t respond, he just presses his head into Trevor’s hand. Several minutes pass before Alucard finally speaks.

“Stay. Please.” Trevor nods. “There’s— two bedrooms, in the east wing. They’ve been made up.” He speaks slowly, as if there’s a weight on his tongue.

“Make yourselves at home.” His demeanour is that of an exhausted host. None of the cold fury or sorrow from earlier is present in his voice. He just sounds weary.

“Stay as long as you like.”

~~~

A few days pass, and Sypha and Trevor are growing increasingly aware of exactly how unstable Alucard is. On the day they arrived, they noticed an unfamiliar bow lying shattered on the floor of one of the hallways. The table in the kitchen is set with three places, months-old food turned fuzzy with mould. When they venture into the west wing where Alucard sleeps, they see faint bloodstains against the crimson carpet. It looked as if bodies had been dragged through the hallways. They don’t mention it, to Alucard or to each other. In their room (they decided to share, in case something happened, something that they both feared but refused to speak aloud), there is a garment that resembles something from the far East hanging in the closet, dusty with disuse. They rarely see Alucard. He stays in his room for most of the day, only leaving to refill a canteen with a red liquid that’s either blood or wine. (Alucard doesn’t need to drink blood. At least, not in the amounts that he consumes each night). (But Alucard doesn’t drink, either. That was always Trevor’s job).

As the days go on, Alucard gets worse. They start to hear hisses and screams coming from the west wing. Whenever they catch a glimpse of him, his eyes are rimmed with red, and there’s a feverish colour high on his cheekbones. His body is frail and Trevor wonders how the hell he’s still standing. He hasn’t changed his clothes or bathed since they arrived, and maybe before that, too. There’s an angry scar that circles his wrist that they hadn’t noticed before. It’s puffy and weeping, and it looks like he’s been picking at it.

It all comes to a head on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Normally Alucard sleeps throughout the day, but today it’s different. Trevor and Sypha are sparring on the front lawn when they hear the shattering of glass. They look up to one of the windows, and they can see him standing pale and golden in the afternoon light. He’s holding a stack of books. He throws them out the window with force uncharacteristic to his slim figure. He leaves the window, and comes back carrying an entire small table over his head. It would be comical, if not for his previous behaviour. The table goes flying into the yard, along with a (thankfully unlit) oil lamp, a globe, more books, several wall hangings, an entire suit of armour, a sword (Trevor ducks, although it’s not in any danger of hitting him), and finally a painting. Sypha and Trevor are silent for a few seconds.

“Think we should go check on him?” Trevor nods, and his hand unwillingly goes to his hip where his whip is coiled. They walk up the steps of the castle, up the grand staircase, and follow the sound of Alucard’s sobs through darkened corridors until they reach the mahogany doors of Alucard’s chambers. There’s a sound of crashing coming from inside. Trevor cautiously turns the handle and Sypha gasps at the sight that greets them.

Alucard is standing in the middle of his room, backlit by the afternoon sunlight, with tears streaming down his face and his sword in his hand. He’s breathing hard as if he’s been fighting. The room is wrecked, the four-poster bed turned on its side, the bookshelves broken with tomes spilling out onto the floor, pages torn out. Worst of all, there’s a bare spot on the wall where a portrait of Alucard’s mother used to hang. Alucard’s shirtless, and it’s even more obvious that he hasn’t been eating. Trevor can’t help but think to himself that even like this, Alucard is beautiful, and then he stops himself and tries to focus on the task at hand. Sypha’s walked up to him, her hands tracing the scar on his chest, and there are tears streaming down her face.

“Please,” she whispers, “Let us help you, Alucard.” Alucard drops to his knees.

“I can’t,” Sypha interrupts him.

“Please try.” Trevor opens his mouth, then closes it again. Words have never come easy to him, and this time is no exception. He tries again to find the words to express how fucking sorry he is, but the only thing that comes out is

“This isn’t— this isn’t you, Alucard. This isn’t the Alucard we know.” He realizes instantly that he’s said the wrong thing. Alucard growls, low in his throat, and pushes Trevor away from him.

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t fucking left me, then I’d still be the same fucking person.” Alucard lets out a choked sob.

“I don’t even think I’m a person anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3 should be up soon!  
> instagram- @corvidcharmz  
> tumblr- @holybones


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alucard falls ill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i sound like a broken record but thank you so much to percy for beta'ing!!!

Alucard’s words cut through every layer of Trevor’s defences. Trevor reaches his hand out to touch him but Alucard swats him away with a broken sob. Sypha, too, seems unable to speak. Guilt presses down on Trevor’s chest, heavier than a thousand fucking mountains, and he feels his eyes prick with unshed tears. Alucard is shaking under Sypha’s hands, and Trevor watches with horror as his eyes roll back in his head and his body goes limp. Sypha looks over at Trevor, eyes wide with panic and says simply, “Oh God. Trevor, what did we do?” 

“Not important. Help me lift him, and take him to our room. He shouldn’t be alone right now.” 

Sypha nods resolutely, hauling Alucard up by his armpits and draping him over her shoulders. She whispers, “Trevor, he’s so light— he feels like a child,” and, louder, “We have to help him!” 

Trevor looks at her fondly. 

“We’ll do what we can.” 

~~~

They lay Alucard down on Sypha’s side of the bed. Trevor gives his bare torso a cursory once-over, checking for any fresh wounds. The scar on his chest is red and raw as if he’s tried to reopen it. It’s too old for him to succeed, but the skin around it is shiny and inflamed. There’s a new collection of burn scars that wrap around his wrists and all the way up to his neck, and down his torso underneath the waistband of his too-tight pants. It’s obvious he’s made no effort to take care of them, and some are still leaking blood and pus. Trevor winces. 

“Sypha, I need you to go to the cellar and get me bandages, a bottle of the strongest alcohol you can find, yarrow, which should be in labelled packets, a mortar and pestle…” He rattles off a list of herbs and tools that he’ll need, and Sypha nods and runs out of the room, leaving Trevor alone with Alucard. 

Trevor finds his mind wandering. Idly, he wonders whether Sypha looks at Alucard the way he does. He starts, realizing what he just admitted to himself, and wants to curl up into a ball of shame. It’s true, he and Sypha have never put a label on… whatever it is they have going on, and neither of them had ever said they were exclusive, but Trevor still feels frozen with guilt. Realistically, he knows Sypha won’t care who he sleeps with. She had an upbringing free of the mandates of the church, and in her painfully logical mind, she sees polygamy, or polyamory, or whatever else as a natural and human instinct. 

Trevor still hates himself for it. He’s heard Sypha take people to bed while they were on the road and at the time thought nothing of it, even though some of the people were evidently other women, but when it comes to himself, he can’t shake the disgust he feels at some of his more… taboo urges.

He groans quietly to himself. Sypha was supposed to fix that. She was supposed to fix _him._ He thought that maybe after he started to love a woman, he’d maybe forget about men, but it seems as if being around her in all of her heretic glory has brought out the worst in him. He wants to complain. He wants to want to leave her, to quit his wandering life and find a good Christian woman to marry, with a conventional upbringing, who’ll be a dutiful wife and help him continue the Belmont line and make him feel _normal_ again. But he doesn’t want that. He wants to want it, so _painfully_ , but he doesn’t. He wants Sypha. And he wants Alucard. 

_Fuck._

Sypha re-enters their room, arms overflowing with goods, and places them on the side of the bed not currently occupied by Alucard. Her eyes are bright, and there’s a determined set to her jaw. Trevor looks at her, dazed, and puts a hand to her cheek. She smiles slightly and kisses the tips of his fingers. Shaking his head, he tries to refocus his attentions on Alucard’s wounds, taking the brandy and the roll of bandages and starting to disinfect them. While he works, he talks idly to Sypha, narrating what he’s doing. 

“Ideally we’d want to boil the bandages, but I really don’t have the time for it and the brandy will work almost as well.” He starts to grind up the yarrow and other herbs in the mortar and pestle with a bit more of the brandy. Sypha chuckles. He looks up at her with a question in his eyes.  
“You’re using so much alcohol! Tell me, why am I not surprised?” Trevor rolls his eyes. “Sypha, if I don’t use the brandy, then the wound will be dirty. Dirty wounds get infected. Infected wounds kill people.” She looks vaguely embarrassed. “Besides, I’m not a brandy person, so it's not a huge loss.” 

Sypha laughs, muttering, “No, you only drink beer like the fucking animal you are.” He lightly swats her on the back of the head, and she retaliates by sticking a magically frozen finger in his ear. Squawking, Trevor drops his tools and tackles her to the ground, pressing kisses all over her face. She captures his lips in a hard kiss, winding her hands into his hair and tugging. _This wasn’t what I had in mind_ , he thinks. But then again, he’s not complaining. He deepens the kiss, grasping her waist and pulling her closer. She lets go of his hair, pushing him off of her. Whining, Trevor makes grabby hands at her, but she shakes her head and points to the bed, where Alucard is still lying there. 

Oh. Right. 

Trevor pouts, but gets off the floor and returns to his seat by Alucard’s bed. His condition hasn’t changed much. Trevor presses the back of his hand to Alucard’s forehead and remarks to Sypha, “He’s running a pretty bad fever.”  
She nods, replying, “Well, that’s to be expected. The infection’s pretty bad. If it were anyone else, I’d be worried, but since he’s…” She trails off. Trevor finishes the sentence in his head. 

_Half-vampire._

_Not entirely human._

_The son of Dracula._

“Yeah.” 

Trevor busies himself with dressing Alucard’s wounds. He first smears the herb paste he’s made on them and then wraps them tightly with the alcohol-soaked bandages. Alucard still doesn’t wake up. 

“Sypha,” he says, “Can you make me some ice?” She nods, obviously happy to be of use. She touched two fingers to her forehead and raised her hand in front of her. Circular pieces of ice collected in her palm. Trevor thanked her and grabbed the ice from her hand, fingertips softly brushing her palm. He shivered gently. It wasn’t because of the cold. He kissed her on the cheek, which was still sparking with the effects of her magic. Being around her when she got to use her power was always exhilarating. The raw strength that lived under her skin awed Trevor, and time and time again he found himself wondering what that strength would feel like if put to… other purposes. He blushes and looks away, turning his focus back to tending Alucard. 

~~~

Sypha and Trevor agree to take watches through the night. Trevor makes a bed on the floor with blankets stolen from the other room, and curls up on the floor. Sypha had agreed to take the first watch, and so she sits on the chair beside their bed with a magically cooled hand resting on Alucard’s forehead. Several minutes pass, and Trevor still can’t make himself sleep. He shifts, turning to face the wall, and the strange garment in the closet makes an eerie shape in the corner. He squints at it. He hadn’t ever paid much attention to it before, but now he’s realizing how fucking out of place it is. As far as he knows, Alucard’s never been farther than Styria, and the only reason that he would have it is if someone gave it to him. And if it was a gift, then why is it back here, hidden in a wing of the castle that he never goes in? A thought dawns on him, and he feels his heart speed up. He remembers the staked bodies in front of the castle. Their faces had been mostly decomposed, but he recalls olive skin and dark hair, and facial features that were clearly not local. 

He sits up abruptly. Brows drawn together, Sypha asks, “Trevor? Is everything okay?” He shakes his head.

“Sypha, I think I know what happened to Alucard.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope to finish this fic by next week!  
> instagram- @corvidcharmz  
> tumblr- @holybones


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sypha and Trevor confront Alucard's ghosts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> percy is my beta and i love him very much

Trevor outlines his discoveries to Sypha. “First of all, the people on stakes don’t look local. Second of all, that outfit in the closet? It’s definitely not local. And the only way Alucard could have gotten it is if someone gave it to him. But it’s hidden in this room in a wing of the castle he never goes in…” As he speaks, her eyes widen in understanding. “There were three table settings! And… Oh, god. The bloodstains on the carpets… Trevor! Do you think he—” He cuts her off with a finger to her lips. “Don’t. Don’t say it. Alucard wouldn’t do that. He  _ wouldn’t. _ ” He whispers, his tone pleading. She presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “I don’t know, Trevor. I don’t think he’s entirely Alucard anymore.” Trevor’s eyes grow blurry.  _ Shit, _ he thinks, and hot tears start to roll down his cheeks. Sypha holds him tight, murmuring softly against his hair.  _ I love you,  _ she mouths.  _ it’s going to be alright.  _

_ He’s still in there.  _

It sounds like she’s convincing herself. 

On the bed next to them, Alucard stirs. Sypha is by his side in an instant, cooled hand touching his forehead. He whimpers softly, raising a hand to paw weakly at the bandages on his shoulders. Sypha looks at Trevor anxiously. “I think his fever’s getting worse,” she whispers, “What should we do?” Trevor shakes his head. Goes through his mental list of herbs and tonics. “Willow bark, maybe? Or catnip? I don’t know,” he mutters to himself, “It’s probably better to just let him sweat it out…” Sypha nods. Alucard’s moans are getting louder. He sounds like a wounded animal. He’s saying something, but Trevor can’t quite make it out. His eyes are rolled back in his head, only a strip of white showing where there would normally be vibrant gold.

Suddenly, Alucard’s hand shoots up and claws at Trevor’s chest, long fingers tangling in his loose sleep shirt. “I’m sorry,” he slurs, “I didn’t want to… I tried so hard…” He tosses and turns, straw-blond hair spread over the rumpled sheets like shimmering light. He’s flushed and sweaty, and Trevor has to look away.  _ Damnit,  _ he thinks,  _ now is not the fucking time.  _ But Alucard, despite his illness, is painfully attractive and  _ not wearing a shirt.  _ On the bed, Alucard gasps and turns his head to the side, covering his face with a bandaged forearm. Trevor wants to make him look like that. Under different circumstances, of course. Alucard’s whines subside, and he falls again into sleep. Sypha sighs and runs her fingers through Alucard’s hair. “He needs a fucking bath,” she mutters. She’s right. Although he’s as ethereally beautiful as ever, he  _ stinks, _ and his hair is matted and greasy. 

Trevor shakes his head. It  _ hurts,  _ seeing Alucard like this. It was always him who was the mess. It was always Alucard and Sypha who were picking up his pieces. Alucard was supposed to be the calm and composed one, the water to temper his blade and Sypha’s fire, but now he’s broken and it’s his damn fault. Against his will, he feels himself starting to cry again and he turns away from the bed and furiously scrubs at his eyes with his palms. Sypha, ever tactful, ignores him and busies herself with fixing Alucard’s sheets. 

~~~

The sun rises the next morning, brilliant and beautiful and uncaring of the turmoil in Trevor’s heart. Alucard’s condition hasn’t changed. He wakes intermittently, yelling and sobbing, and then falls back into a deep slumber. 

Noon comes and goes. Sypha and Trevor are both famished, but neither is willing to leave Alucard’s side for long. 

As the sun dips below the tree line, Trevor notices Sypha’s head start to dip. “Hey,” he whispers, “Don’t fall asleep on me. Can you go get some food for us? Bread, or something?” She sticks her tongue out at him. “Get it yourself, pig.” Trevor rolls his eyes and leans across the bed to press a quick kiss to her lips. 

He walks to the kitchen, eyes lingering on the smashed lanterns and slashed paintings that line the walls. The castle is silent as a tomb. Trevor thinks of Alucard, all alone in the home that became his father’s grave. He thinks of Alucard wandering these halls alone, of him speaking and only hearing the echoes of his voice back at him. Overcome, he stops in front of one of the windows that overlook the front doors. He can see the white speck that is their covered wagon, and if he looks harder, the crimson blood of the corpses. He and Sypha wanted to bury them, but after they saw Alucard standing in between them with his sword in hand, slashing at the crows that came to feast on the bodies, they thought better of it.

Trevor finds the pantry, grabs a couple of loaves of stale bread, and walks back to their room. He tiptoes through the door. Sypha is lying with her head on Alucard’s chest, sobbing violently. He sits heavily on the chair opposite her and threads his fingers through her hair. “You need to bathe,” he murmurs. She laughs wetly. “If you’re noticing, then I must really stink.” 

“What’s wrong?” Trevor asks, his voice wavering a little. 

“This,” she gestures at Alucard’s prone form. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Trevor nods. It’s the only thing he can do. “I thought— I thought that it would be the best decision. I thought we were doing the right thing.” She lifts her head from Alucard’s chest and looks at him, and the exhaustion and desperation in her eyes is painful to look at. 

He presses their foreheads together. “We couldn’t have known that it would be— like this, he never even  _ asked  _ to come with us, he never liked travelling, I thought he’d like it better if he—” Sypha interrupts him with a searing kiss. Her lips are bitten raw and he can taste the tang of blood as her mouth opens to him. “Shut up,” she mutters as she pulls away. “It  _ is  _ our fault, you inane fool,” She grabs Trevor by the collar of his shirt. “We left him here. We hurt him and now we have to pick up the pieces. Don’t even  _ try  _ to shift the blame to him, because it’s  _ not his fault.  _ I know you’re too insufferably proud to ever admit when you’re wrong—” 

“I am not!” He interrupts. 

“Yes, you are. And now is not the time for arguing. If you don’t put aside your damnable pride, for the time being, Alucard is just going to get worse—we can fight about whose fault it was later, just— ugh.” she mutters. He nods sheepishly. 

The sun has properly set now, and the moon is rising in their eastern window. Alucard stirs, hands scrabbling in the sheets, and then abruptly sits up, eyes wide and panicked. He pushes himself backward, gaze piercing through Trevor. 

“Taka?” He slurs, his hands going to clutch at Trevor. “What are you—” His gaze shifts to Sypha. “Oh god— Sumi, what the hell—“ Sypha grabs Alucard’s hand, and he snatches it away and lunges at her. He’s unbalanced, weak from malnutrition and fever, and he falls face-forward on the bed. He looks up at the both of them, his face contorted in a mask of grief, and whispers raggedly, “How could you— I trusted you— I fucking loved you and you left me— I killed you, goddamnit! Why are you haunting me like this, haven’t I endured enough? I killed you! I see your bodies every day—” His eyes are wild, frenzied, as he bares his fangs at them. 

Sypha’s eyes are welling with tears. “Alucard,” she starts, but he interrupts her before she can finish. “Don’t say my name! Don’t you say my fucking name,” Alucard screams, “Or I’ll put my sword through your throat— as many times as it takes for you to stay  _ fucking  _ dead!” Alucard is panting with exertion and his face is crumpling as he falls down on the bed. Curled in the fetal position, he tangles his hands into his hair and pulls at it, rocking back and forth and sobbing violently. “Please just let me sleep,” he chokes out, “Leave me alone, let me die, I don’t care, just get  _ out of my FUCKING HEAD! _ ” With that, his eyes roll back in his head, and his body grows lax as he passes out. 

~~~

The next morning, Alucard’s fever breaks. Trevor and Sypha help him sit up in bed, and bring him a cup of weak broth. He does not speak. He allows them to change his bandages and tie his hair back but doesn’t seem to hear whenever they try to talk to him. The fever has exhausted him so much that he can barely sit up, and he has trouble keeping solid foods down. Sypha tells Trevor to go and rest when she notices that he’s nodding off where he sits. He wants to protest, but he’s so tired he can’t make himself. He curls up on the bed they’ve made on the floor and falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillows. 

Trevor wakes to the long shadows and stillness of early evening. Sypha is talking quietly to Alucard about nothing in particular, and his eyes are staring vacantly at a spot just above the window. Trevor worries. Something in Alucard seems broken, his normal radiance dimmed to a dull lustre. Trevor watches him idly pick at the bandages on his wrist. He stretches, stands up, and goes to his bedside. “Stop touching your bandages,” he admonishes, “You’re fucking filthy. I don’t want your wounds getting infected again.” Alucard stops. His face doesn’t change, giving no indication that he’s heard Trevor at all other than obeying him. “Ha!” Trevor exclaims in delight. “You  _ can  _ hear us!” Alucard is silent. Sypha’s face falls. “Or not, I guess.” 

Sypha brings them bread and cheese from the pantry. Sypha breaks off a chunk of bread and places it in Alucard’s hand. He holds it loosely, and his eyes do not stray from their spot above the window. He does not eat. Sypha sighs and places the bread to his lips. He eats it then, chewing mechanically. Trevor is reminded of the burned-out shells of Lindenfeld. There seems to be nothing left in him. 

A day passes. Then another. Trevor takes Alucard’s bandages off. The only times Alucard talks are in his sleep.  _ Get out of my head,  _ he begs.  _ Just fucking kill me already.  _ Trevor and Sypha are both grimy and dirty and starving, but neither is willing to leave his side. 

On the morning of the fourth day, Alucard finally speaks. Sypha is spreading ointment on his scabs when he looks down at her and says, in a voice raw from disuse, “You should have let me die.” Trevor presses his hand to Alucard’s cheek. 

“We could never.” He whispers. 

“You are more precious than life itself,” Sypha adds. Alucard’s eyes are welling with tears. He buries his face in his hands. “Then why did you leave?” he asks, voice muffled by his palms. “We thought it was the right thing to do,” Trevor starts. His voice is too loud in the quiet room. “I mean. It wasn’t. Obviously. But we thought— we thought you would be happier without us.” Alucard sighs. 

“Or were you just afraid of travelling with a vampire?” Alucard’s tone is biting. Trevor winces. Sypha shakes her head, pressing her fingertips into her temples. “What Trevor  _ means _ ,” she says, “Is that we’re sorry.” Alucard laughs, a dry little thing that holds no real humour. 

“Well. Good to know.” Sypha sighs. 

“Please, Alucard.” 

“Why the fuck should I accept that? It won’t change,” His voice breaks here, “The fact that the two people I love most on this earth decided to fuck off and leave me!” 

“We didn’t want to— We wanted you to be safe. You’re the prince of fucking vampires, for God’s sake, were we supposed to just let you run around the countryside? What if you had gotten hurt? What if you had  _ died _ ? What would we have done then?!” Trevor yells, gesturing wildly with his hands. Alucard scoffs. 

“Oh, yes! How could I forget? The last son of the Belmonts, possibly the most powerful mage in Wallachia— How  _ expendable _ !” He hisses. “Are you so fucking blind that you can’t see how important the two of you are? What makes your lives so much less precious than mine?” Trevor goes blind with rage. He balls his fists in his lap to stop himself from hitting Alucard. Every word that falls from Trevor’s lips is heavy with sorrow and fury as he spits, “How the  _ hell  _ were we supposed to know that you wanted to come too? The first time we met you tried to fucking kill me! You’ve always looked at me with so much fucking disdain like I was a pile of dog shit you’d accidentally stepped in, and you think I’m supposed to just roll over when you tell me that you  _ care  _ about me? I’ve spent our entire fucking relationship thinking that you hate my guts! Am I supposed to just believe you? Just like that?” Trevor feels a hot flush creeping up his neck. He’s trembling and there are tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Alucard is looking away from him, blond hair lying in a curtain across his face. Sypha grabs one of his fists, slowly rubbing it until his finger unclench themselves. Her voice is firm as she tells him, “Calm down, Trevor. You’re behaving like a child.” He can’t even retort. He feels wrung out, limp and exhausted. She slings his arm over her shoulder and lays him down on their floor-bed. 

“Go to sleep, Trevor. We’ll talk in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is all so alucard-and-trevor centric! i'm gonna try and get sypha some more action soon   
> instagram- @corvidcharmz  
> tumblr- @holybones


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor makes breakfast. It’s not as fluffy as you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peeby is my beta and i love him

Trevor wakes with the sun, Sypha half draped over him like a very large cat. He basks in the feeling of her skin pressed against his bare back. Her soft breaths tickle the hairs on the back of his neck, and he shivers slightly and shifts closer to her. She grumbles and moves her hand to fall heavily on his nose. _Yep,_ he thinks, _definitely a cat._ He kisses her palm, and she moves her hand sleepily to tangle in his hair. Humming happily, he leans into her. She presses soft kisses to the back of his neck as she wakes. “G’morning,” She whispers blearily. Trevor smiles. He doesn’t respond, just turns around and looks at her. Her red-gold hair is sticking up in places and there are lines from the pillow striping her cheeks. He runs his fingers over them, and pulls her in gently to kiss her. She smiles into the kiss, fingers leaving his hair to grasp him firmly by his waist.

“We’re both filthy,” she whispers against his lips, “Let’s take a bath later.” 

“Fantastic idea.” Trevor feels a grin pulling insistently against the corners of his mouth. “Wait. Together?” He says, giving in and letting a smile split his face. 

“No, Trevor. We bathe separately like the blushing virgins we both are.” Sypha says drily. 

“Shut up.” He pulls a lock of her hair. 

“No.”

“Shut up!” 

“Make me!” 

Trevor would oblige, but he’s rudely reminded that Alucard is also in the room with them when he lets out a loud cough. 

“Oh. Hello, Alucard.” Sypha mutters pointedly. 

“Forgot I was here?” He retorts. She ignores him, instead choosing to comment, “You look better today.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t coddle me, Sypha. I look like I’ve just been dragged out of hell.” Trevor chooses not to point out that he might as well have been. 

“Well, you’re talking. That’s something.” 

“Is that so strange? I talk quite frequently,” Alucard says lightly. 

“Don’t joke,” Sypha frowns. 

“I’m not—what are you speaking of?” 

Sypha puts her head in her hands. “You don’t remember, do you?” She asks. Alucard grips her shoulders and shakes her. 

“How long has it been?” He demands, eyes wide and panicked. 

Sypha shakes her head. “Six days since you—since you wrecked your room.” 

Alucard gasps, leaning back onto the bed. “You passed out after we came in,” Sypha starts to explain, and Trevor interrupts. 

“You were running a pretty high fever—most of your—” he gestures at Alucard’s arms and chest, “—Injuries were infected. I bandaged them and I’m pretty sure the infection’s out. Can’t be too careful though, so we’re gonna have to keep putting salve on them until they heal completely.” 

Sypha rolls her eyes. “Thank you, Trevor, I was going to get to that. Anyways, after we bandaged your wounds you were feverish for about two days—you were pretty out of it. You were… yelling a lot. You thought Trevor and I were someone else for most of it.” 

“Ah. I see.” Alucard’s tone is carefully controlled, only the slightest edge to his voice showing his alarm. “And after that?” 

“Well,” Sypha starts, “Not much after. You didn’t do… anything. It was like you—your personality, that is—was missing. You were out for four days.” Her voice cracks, and she looks away. 

“I’m… I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Trevor interjects. “It’s not your fault.” He reconsiders. “I mean, it is, a bit. But we’re not holding it against you.” 

Wincing, Alucard looks away from them. “I should go,” he says, pushing the sheets off his body. He stands up, and promptly falls on his face. Trevor snickers. 

Sypha grasps him firmly by the shoulders and hauls him back to his feet, sitting him back down on the bed. “You,” she says, “Are not going anywhere.” She smiles sweetly. “You are going to sit here while Trevor makes us breakfast,” 

“What? Why me?” Trevor interjects. 

“Shut up, Trevor. Alucard, you need to focus on recovering. It doesn’t matter if you’re half vampire, if you keep going like you have been you’re going to waste away and die.” Alucard scowls, but he doesn’t try to get up again. Sypha claps her hands in delight. 

“Lovely! Trevor, go make us some food, will you?” 

~~~

The pantry is almost empty. Any perishable food items he and Sypha brought have long since gone bad, and, to his dismay, he finds that the last loaf of hard bread is so mouldy he can’t salvage any of it. After a couple of minutes of searching, he finally manages to find a rasher of bacon somewhere and the last of the oats he and Sypha brought. _We’ll have to go into town soon,_ he thinks. He doesn’t want to leave the castle. Alucard is still too weak to stand on his own, and Sypha and Trevor have also been neglecting the injuries they received at Lindenfeld. He can’t remember the last time he changed the bandages on his shoulder, and although he knows the danger of infection is past, the wound’s not going to heal cleanly if he doesn’t take care of it soon. He doesn’t even know the extent of Sypha’s injuries, since she never lets him tend to her. She prefers to crawl off and lick her wounds in peace, away from the discomfort of prying eyes. 

The pot of water hanging above the fire is just starting to boil when Sypha walks into the kitchen, Alucard leaning heavily on her arm. The contrast between Sypha’s tiny frame and Alucard’s quite frankly ridiculous height makes Trevor chuckle. 

“I’m making porridge,” He says. 

“Yes, that was obvious,” Alucard replies. His voice is frighteningly weak and lacks his usual sardonic bite. 

Trevor winces. “Yes, well. You’re welcome to it. Sorry if it’s a little burnt.” 

Alucard laughs, voice thin and reedy. “It’s better than Sypha’s, anyway.” 

“My cooking is fine!” She objects, “Just because I wasn’t raised a proper lady doesn’t mean I don’t have ladylike skills!” She adopts a ridiculously nasal voice that makes her sound a little like Trevor’s mother. 

“Sypha, we both know you’re about as ladylike as Shitstain here.” Trevor gestures outside to their cart. 

“Who the _hell_ is Shitstain?” Alucard’s noble features are pinched tight with exasperation. 

Sypha beams. “One of our horses! The other one is Buttercup.” 

“Take a guess which one she named,” Says Trevor with a dry laugh. 

“Buttercup?” 

Sypha’s barely suppressing a giggle. “Nope! Guess again!” 

Alucard’s jaw drops. “Sypha, you _didn’t_!” 

“Yes, I did.” She smiles smugly. “Bet you didn’t see _that_ one coming!” Alucard shakes his head, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Sypha tosses Trevor a triumphant wink. The pot of porridge bubbles quietly in the background, and Trevor takes it off the fire and places it on the table. He gestures towards it, saying, “Well? Help yourself, Alucard.” 

~~~

Alucard is a quiet man. Trevor’s known him for long enough to be sure of that. He rarely speaks unless absolutely necessary, his words carefully calculated to get his point across as concisely as possible. And when he does participate in Sypha and Trevor’s conversations, he doesn’t waste a single word. Trevor’s gotten to know his different silences. He knows when he’s trying not to laugh, the only crack in his carefully composed demeanour being a slight twitch of his mouth. When he’s angry, his lips tighten into a flat line and his pale eyes narrow with terrifying malice. Trevor knows what contentment looks like on him. He knows his grief, and his joy, and his fear, and yet he’s never seen a silence like this. Alucard’s face is lax, his eyes downturned and dull. He eats mechanically, showing no emotion. It’s different, though. There is no mask Alucard’s hiding behind. This is his raw self, uncovered. And it’s just _empty_ . He seems void of all feeling. Minutes ago he was laughing with them, and Trevor had let himself believe that that was the end, that Alucard was okay again, but evidently it was just another fucking pipe dream. _He’s just tired,_ Trevor tells himself. He wants to believe that Alucard’s heart will heal with his burns, but deep down he knows that it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple. Something happened while they were away that hurt him deeper than any sword ever could. 

“Alucard?” Sypha prompts. “How’re the repairs on the castle going?” 

Alucard just glances at her, painfully exhausted, and softly mutters, “Don’t fucking talk to me.” Sypha winces and nods silently. 

Exasperated, Trevor throws his hands in the air and yells, “Fuck you! We’re trying to _help_ and this is how you thank us? We stayed up looking after your pointy ass for six _fucking_ days!”

Alucard’s lips draw back in a snarl. “You didn’t have to _do that_ , dammit!” 

Sypha interrupts him before he can get any further. “We’ve talked about this already. Trevor, calm down, Alucard, _please_ just…let us try to help.” She pauses, thinking. “It’s the least we can do to make up for…everything.” 

“Why should I believe that? Last time someone said they’d help me they—” He stops suddenly, a sob tearing through his chest. Sypha rushes to his side, placing a comforting hand over his shoulders. He shrugs her off, attempting to stand up. 

“Stop it, you’re going to hurt yourself again.” She forces him back down into his chair. 

“Who cares?” Alucard’s flippant tone would be convincing if not for the tears threatening to spill onto his cheeks. 

“Us, you fucking idiot!” Trevor shouts indignantly. Alucard looks away from them, hair covering his face. 

“How am I supposed to believe that?” Alucard hiccups. “It’s not like last night—” 

“The last _week_ ,” Trevor interrupts. 

“ _Whatever_ , it’s doesn’t make up for the three months where you just—”

“Left you, we know—”

“Stop _fucking_ interrupting me!” Alucard screams, his fangs flashing in the morning light. Trevor can see him swaying in his seat, and he’s even paler than usual. “Alucard, calm down, you’re going to reopen your injuries—” 

“ _I DON’T CARE!_ I don’t fucking _care_ , dammit! I just wanted to live my damn life in peace, I was doing _fine_ , why the hell did you just have to come storming in here like—like nothing’s wrong, like nothing ever happened, like it’s just another one of your _fucking_ adventures—let’s come and save the poor half-vampire who can’t take care of himself! Look at us, we’re so _noble_ and _righteous_ — Belnades and Belmont, here to save the world! Doesn’t matter if I’m the only reason you two even _get_ to have adventures—I’m just another way for you to get what you want! I’m just—just a tool for you two to use and then be done with.” Alucard wilts onto the table, pillowing his head on his forearms and sobbing quietly. Sypha speaks, for the first time since the argument began. 

“Alucard— you don’t have to trust us. Just please, _please_ , let us help you get back on your feet. I don’t think that I—that _we_ could ever forgive ourselves if we let you keep going like this. Just let us stay until you heal.” 

“No.” His voice is muffled by his arms. “You’re just going to leave again. There’s no point.”

“We’ll stay until you’re better. And next time we leave, I promise you we’ll come back. We won’t ever leave you like this again.” Sypha’s crying too.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Please, Alucard. Let us—let us prove it to you.” 

He sighs. 

“Fine.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> insta- @corvidcharmz  
> tumblr- @holybones
> 
> next up: alucard finally takes a fucking bath


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alucard takes a fucking bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry there was such a wait! things are very stressful rn and writer’s block hit me like a train ://

“Well, the first thing you’re going to do is take a fucking bath.” Sypha’s tone is brisk, leaving no room for disagreement. Alucard sighs. He runs his fingers through his hair, frowning a bit. “Hm.” He scratches his scalp with a strange expression on his face. “I am pretty filthy.” 

“Yes. Well.” Trevor looks away. 

“I’ll—” He puts his head in his hands, hiding the blush that stains his ivory skin. “I’ll probably be needing your… help. With that.” Alucard groans, refusing to make eye contact with either of them. 

Sypha rolls her eyes. “Stop being children, both of you. It’s not that weird.”

“Actually, Sypha, it  _ is _ that weird—” “It’s…definitely not ideal—” Say Trevor and Alucard simultaneously. They both fall silent, pointedly looking at everything but each other. 

“See?” Trevor says, “Even the fucking vampire agrees!” 

“ _ Half _ -vampire, thank you very much, and I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” 

“Come on, Alucard, everyone knows that vampires are into some freaky shit—” 

Sypha groans loudly. “Helping your  _ injured  _ friend bathe—” 

“We aren’t friends,” Alucard interrupts. 

“Fucking  _ ouch, _ ” 

“ _ Whatever _ , helping Alucard take a bath for the first time in  _ God  _ knows how long is hardly ‘freaky’ and if I hear either one of you bitch about this any more I will freeze your fucking dicks off.” 

Trevor gulps. “Yes ma’am,” He says, his voice wavering slightly. 

~~~

So, that’s how Trevor ends up sitting behind a  _ very  _ naked vampire ( _ Half-vampire _ , his brain reminds him), with soapy hands tangled in his hair, and Sypha standing over him with a glare that could melt steel. (Technically, she  _ could _ melt steel. Trevor had seen it.) The exquisitely tiled bathroom is swelteringly hot and Trevor’s cotton shirt is sticking to his skin. He can think of very few places that he’d less rather be. Alucard apparently can’t even lift his arms above his head or do anything useful at all, and Trevor wants to think that he’s just being a pain, but he’s so malnourished that he can barely hold himself upright in the marble tub. Alucard sags into Trevor’s hold, and Trevor wants to hate it, wants to feel some measure of disgust at his proximity, but all he wants is for Alucard to come closer. He tries to work his fingers through the tangles in Alucard’s hair, and when he tugs too hard Alucard makes a small noise low in his throat that under different circumstances would be considered a moan, but right now just sounds pitiful. Sypha shakes him out of his thoughts by slapping him across the face with a wet cloth. 

“Goodness, Trevor, you’re going to tear the poor man’s hair out,” She laughs, “Didn’t know you liked greasy, unwashed hair that much!” 

Trevor flushes and takes his hands out of Alucard’s blond hair. The fact that Alucard seems to chase his touch and makes another little whine when he finally untangles himself is not lost on him. He doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t think about how Alucard shifts his glance over as he wraps himself in a towel. Doesn’t think about how Alucard’s body language seems to open to him, the subtle and vulnerable gazes that speak more than words could. His pale gold eyes bore holes right through him, saying  _ I see you, _ and  _ I know your secret _ . Trevor doesn’t look at the slim lines of Alucard’s body as he dries himself off. He can tell that deep down, Alucard  _ wants  _ him to look, but he refuses to give him that satisfaction. Alucard glances over his bare shoulder. He’s so beautiful it hurts. 

“Trevor. Come help me put my hair up.” 

“Do it yourself, vampire.” 

“Believe me, I would, but it seems that you’re the only one in this castle who knows how to braid,  _ Belmont _ .” 

Trevor narrows his eyes. “How the fuck do you know that?” 

“Sypha and I were talking about it. You were too busy playing with my hair to notice.” 

_ Fuck. _ “Well. Guess I don’t have a choice.” He gestures at the side of the marble tub. “Sit down, you’re too damn tall.” Alucard’s lips part a little. He seems oddly taken aback. 

“I— I didn’t think you actually would.” He laughs a little. 

“Yeah, well. I’m not a chicken.”

“Trevor—it’s  _ hair braiding _ , it’s not something to be scared of,” Sypha interrupts. 

“Whatever,” Trevor huffs, pushing Alucard towards the bath. Predictably, he doesn’t budge an inch. “I said  _ sit down _ , dickweed.” Alucard laughs slightly, little more than an exhale of air out of his nose, and arranges himself on the edge of the tub. He still looks elegant, despite the pallor of his skin and red-raw scars. Trevor clears his throat loudly, and then mentally kicks himself. “Uh. All right then. I’ll just—” He gestures towards Alucard’s hair, realizes Alucard can’t see him, and then continues to kick himself. In his head, of course. “I’ll just start then.” Belatedly, he realizes that Sypha had slipped out of the room sometime while he was yelling at Alucard.  _ Damnit,  _ he thinks,  _ don’t leave me alone with him, Sypha.  _

Alucard tries to turn around, but winces in pain and turns back to face the alabaster wall. Trevor shakes his head, and starts to section the silky hair at Alucard’s left temple into three. He weaves the strands together, fingers moving dexterously to tuck them into a neat braid. He braids all the way down Alucard’s hair, and then moves to do the same to his other temple. He leaves the ends of the braids loose. 

“What are you doing?” Alucard’s tone is stiff, but conversational. 

“Two braids. Then tied back.” Trevor mutters around the leather cord in his mouth. Alucard hums, leaning back against Trevor. After the second braid is finished, Trevor gathers Alucard’s hair up and ties it off with the cord, yanking it slightly just to get under his skin. Alucard tosses his head back to hit him in the chest, and Trevor huffs out a breath that’s somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. “Why did you want me to do your hair?” Trevor asks, “You never have it up.” 

“I do, actually. For housework. I guess—I guess you guys haven’t been around much to see that.” Trevor’s lips twitch upwards into a smile. The idea of Alucard with his hair in a bun washing dishes is ridiculous. Although, it’s true that Sypha and Trevor haven’t really seen Alucard out of the context of their mission. When Trevor thinks of Alucard (not that he thinks of him frequently,) he has his fangs bared and longsword in hand, and he’s always glorious and untouchable, like an avenging angel. Alucard has always been so focused on killing Dracula that it’s nearly impossible to think of him just…existing, like a normal person. Although, to be fair, Trevor hasn’t existed like a normal person since the fire, and Sypha’s…Sypha. For the first time since they arrived, Trevor feels a tiny shred of hope for the three of them. 

~~~

Sypha throws a wink at Trevor as he walks back into the kitchen. She’s cleaned up most of the dishes, but Trevor notices she left the big pot for him to wash. Typical. Alucard leans against the doorframe, and Trevor can feel him staring. It should be unsettling. It isn’t. 

“So…What now?” Sypha asks. She jumps up to sit on the table, her legs swinging idly. 

“I don’t know.” Alucard rubs the back of his neck in an uncharacteristically vulnerable gesture. 

“Well, what were you working on before we arrived?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Sypha shakes her head. “Come on, Alucard, we talked about this,” Her tone shifts from sharp to gentle. “You have to let us in.” 

Alucard turns away. “I don’t have to do  _ shit _ , Sypha.”

Trevor slams his hand down on the table. “Cut the bullshit,  _ vampire _ . Sypha and I aren’t idiots. We know you killed those two,” he gestures vaguely in the direction of the doors, “And we’re still here. You might as well just fucking tell us, because we’re not leaving.” 

Alucard looks like he’s been stabbed. He curls inwards, delicate hands trembling on the dark wood of the table. Sypha grips Trevor’s arm with iron force.  _ Look what you fucking did,  _ she mouths. She pushes him back roughly, and he retreats to stand awkwardly near the fireplace. Alucard’s mouth moves silently. Sypha gently touches his arm. He stiffens, but doesn’t move away. She moves her hand to rest on the back of his neck, and from across the room Trevor can see Alucard slowly relax into her touch. Trevor marvels for a moment at how easily she handles him, at her graceful hands that smooth over his hurts and murmured words that calm him like she would a frightened animal. Sypha glances over at Trevor. He can’t quite read her expression. 

“Alucard,” She says softly, “It’s like Trevor said. We’re still here. Whatever you tell us—we’ll stay.” 

“You’ll stay.” Alucard’s tone is blunt, and it would sound like an order except for the emotion that shakes his voice. 

“We’ll stay.” Says Trevor as he moves to Alucard’s other side. 

Alucard laces his fingers together and places his head on them, grounding himself. 

Slowly, softly, he begins to talk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update soon!!   
> ig: @corvidcharmz  
> tumblr: @holybones


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alucard's story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i am SO SORRY for leaving quarantine's got me Fucked Up and my mental health's the worst its been in years! but i finally got out of my funk and i'm back to writing so yeah! expect another chapter this week! sorry it's so short :(

Alucard’s words come haltingly at first, fragmented phrases muttered in between choked sobs, and then faster, tumbling over themselves as if Alucard is trying to rid himself of some poison. He is, in a way. 

“I wanted them to be you two. I tried—I tried to forget.” He scrubs at his eyes with his palms, taking a shaky breath to calm himself. “It didn’t work. But I was just so—” 

“Lonely?” Sypha interrupts. 

“Something like that. So. When they—” Alucard bites his lip, fresh tears streaming down his face. Trevor hesitantly places a hand over Alucard’s, squeezing when he doesn’t pull away. 

“We don’t have to do this now. You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not fucking. Ready, or whatever the hell.” Alucard chuckles weakly at his attempt at consoling him. 

“Kindness isn’t your strong suit, Belmont.” 

“Yeah, so I’ve been told.” Trevor looks away, a wry twist to his mouth. 

“Well. They—” Alucard takes a deep breath. “They propositioned me.” He doesn’t meet their eyes.

Sypha laughs, slightly incredulous. “Oh. That’s it?” 

Trevor’s stomach drops. “So you fucking killed them?” 

“Let him finish, asshole,” Sypha exclaims, hitting him on the back of the head. Trevor glares at Alucard in silence. 

“I couldn’t sleep. They came into my room. I didn’t stop them. I should have— done something, anything, I don’t know. I don’t know why I didn’t. I’ll spare you the details, but they got me in a…Compromising position.” Unconsciously, he rubs at the scarring on his wrists. “They took me by surprise. Silver cuffs. I don’t know how I didn’t see it coming.” Another wave of broken sobs hits him, and he curls in on himself. “I couldn’t shift. Couldn’t teleport. I thought—I thought I was going to die.” He grins, an animal thing that twists his face into something foreign and feral. Trevor shivers. “I didn’t tell them about my sword,” Alucard whispers. “I slit their throats.” 

“They deserved it,” says Trevor, bluntly. “You did what you had to do.” 

“I killed two humans, Trevor. I did _exactly_ what I wasn’t supposed to do.” Sypha laces her fingers with Alucard’s and presses a kiss to his temple. _I should be jealous_ , Trevor thinks. _Why am I not jealous_? Sypha shakes her head, eyes misty with affection.

“It was you or them, Alucard.” She whispers. 

“Was it? I’m sure that’s what my _father_ said when he killed thousands of innocents. Do you think that’s what he told himself when he ordered his armies to destroy Wallachia? When he tried to kill his only son? When he—” 

“That’s enough, Alucard,” Trevor cuts him off. “You’re not your father. You’re nothing like him.” 

“What makes you say that? You didn’t know him like I did.” 

“Maybe not, but I do know that you aren’t a murderer, you aren’t batshit crazy, you _care_ about people—”

“I _am_ a murderer, Belmont. I killed two innocent people and put their bodies on stakes outside my house. That is unforgivable.” There is a note of finality in his voice, resolute despite the tears drying on his cheeks. Sypha steeples her fingers and looks Alucard dead in the eye. 

“ _They weren’t innocent_. They manipulated you when they knew you were weak and then they tried to kill you. Believe me when I say that those are not the actions of innocent people.”

“Perhaps not. But they did not deserve death.”

Sypha gathers Alucard into her arms, whispering something into his hair that Trevor can’t quite hear. He gets the feeling that he’s not meant to. Tentatively, he reaches across the table to tangle his fingers with Alucard’s. Sypha traces her fingers along Alucard’s jaw and kisses him tenderly, swiping a thumb under his eye and catching the tear that pools there. Trevor is just close enough to hear her say, “We forgive you. Even if you do not forgive yourself.” 

~~~

They stay in the kitchen, wrapped in each other’s arms until Alucard’s tears cease and Trevor’s hand goes numb. Alucard excuses himself and disappears into his room. Trevor tries to follow him but Sypha stops him with a firm hand to his chest and a murmured “Let him be, Trevor.” He sits down in the chair facing her and she takes his hands and presses soft kisses to his knuckles until he’s shaking with the effort of holding back his tears. “He’s going to be okay,” she tells him, “He just needs to get out of his head.” Trevor nods mutely. He thinks of Sypha and Alucard. He thinks of them over the course of their journey. Thinks of them hunched over some old spellbook in the Belmont Hold, thinks of the wall of fire Sypha raised around Alucard during the attack on the castle, because she somehow knew that although most vampires are flammable, Alucard is not (he thanks Lisa Tepeş for that. He thanks her for a lot of things) and anyways, nothing Sypha does could hurt him. That’s Trevor’s forte. It always has been. He thinks of their private little jokes, the way they debate morals and magic and philosophy, the late nights in taverns when the three of them tumbled into a single bed, the best they could afford, and woke in the mornings tangled so tightly together he couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began. He thinks of Sypha’s lips pressed against Alucard’s. 

“You kissed him,” He says bluntly. 

“Yes, I did,” Sypha responds, a slight edge of nervousness in her voice. “I didn’t think you minded.” 

“I don’t. I think. I just—” He starts, and stops before he can say anything incriminating. _She’ll leave you_ , the treacherous voice in the back of his head whispers, _If they find out they’ll leave you all alone again and nothing will be the same because they won’t be able to look at you without seeing a fucking freak_. 

“You just what?” 

“Never mind. It’s not important.” 

“You want him too, don’t you?” She says, clear blue eyes boring into his skull. 

_Fuck._

He’s forgotten how annoyingly perceptive Sypha is.

“I’m not a homosexual, Sypha. I like women.” She raises an eyebrow. 

“Women. And Alucard.”

He inclines his head in assent. “And Alucard.” 

She leans in, eyes bright with mischief. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure Alucard’s so inclined as well— wouldn’t that be nice? The three of us together again?” Trevor lets himself picture it. He thinks of a child with Alucard’s white-blonde hair and Sypha’s eyes, and of another one, redheaded but stocky like him. Of Dracula’s castle turned into a place full of love and light. A family. Maybe a garden and a couple of dogs. But inevitably his mind drifts to the wreckage of the world they live in, the hordes of night creatures outside of their little sanctuary, the ever-present influence of the church, of the angry faces of the people of the town when they learn that not only is there a vampire and a magician in the castle, but a fucking _sodomite_ as well, and the domestic fantasy he’s built crumbles. 

“It wouldn’t work, Sypha. You know it wouldn’t.” 

“You don’t know that. People can be good.” 

“Sypha, I’m a fucking _monster hunter_. I won’t make it past thirty. Besides, Alucard’s a vampire. He’s _immortal_ , Sypha. We’ll die and leave him all alone again. We can’t do that to him.” 

“ _Actually_ , Trevor, Alucard isn’t immortal. Vampires stay the age at which they were turned. Alucard’s evidently not a baby. Vampires also don’t get sick, and you’ve seen how he gets in the spring. Have you ever met an immortal with _allergies?_ ” 

“Fine. He’s not immortal. But we’d have to hide, Sypha. Can you honestly tell me that the townspeople who burned my family alive would take kindly to a Speaker magician, the son of Dracula, and a Belmont being together? I watched my family die ten years ago. I have no desire to see that happen again.” 

“Fine. Evidently there’s no changing your mind. You’ve decided to be miserable and there’s nothing I can do about that. But you should tell Alucard. He deserves to know you don’t actually hate him.” 

Trevor rests his forehead against the cool wood of the table. “So what am I supposed to say? ‘Oh, by the way, I don’t hate you, I’m actually kind of in love with you and I want you to put your dick in me’?” 

Sypha snorts. “In you?” She chokes out. “Didn’t know you liked things up your ass. I’ll keep that in mind.” Trevor flushes all the way down to his chest and groans into his arm. 

“Loving you was a fucking mistake.” 

“Likewise. Want me to find the Belmont book of penis spells?” 

“God, I still don’t know why we have that.” 

Sypha chuckles and it’s probably the most beautiful sound Trevor’s ever heard. “I don’t think I really _want_ to know.” 

They laugh together until there are tears streaming down Sypha’s face and Trevor’s ribs are aching. For a moment, Trevor lets himself forget about everything and just enjoy her company in a way he hasn’t had the chance to since before Lindenfeld. 

_We’re okay,_ he thinks. _This is okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ig- @corvidcharmz  
> discord- snickle#1265


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor visits town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day??? yall getting FED  
> also, you may have noticed that this fic has a chapter count now. it might change, but it looks like it's... not going to be the short fic that I planned it to be. but I have a plan now! so that's good!

Sypha and Trevor take inventory of the pantry. Their stores are embarrassingly low, and most of their flour has worms. Sypha points out that they’re probably going to have to go into town for provisions soon, and the thought of making nice with the people who killed his family settles in his stomach like a lead ball. Alucard’s been subsisting on blood, wine, and whatever he could scavenge from the woods, but that’s not enough to support the three of them. So, they decide that tomorrow Trevor will go into town, since Alucard’s elegant features attract too much attention, and a woman travelling alone isn’t much better. He and Sypha could go together, he supposes, but he’s reluctant to leave Alucard alone, even for a day. So, come the next morning, he hitches Shitstain and Buttercup to their wagon and rides off to the market. 

The town is called Teregova, and Trevor remembers the way as clearly as he did when he was twelve and his sisters sent him to deliver notes to their sweethearts in town. For a minute he allows himself the luxury of remembering them. 

His oldest sister was the first to die. She was eighteen, three years older than Trevor, and she took an arrow to the back and told Trevor with her dying breath to  _ run, get out _ . Alina was next. Her and Sylvia fought back to back like they did everything in life, but it wasn’t enough to save her from the angry mob. Sylvia stopped fighting after she fell, she just held the body of her twin and sobbed as her body caught fire.

Trevor was a quiet boy, lacking the beauty and strength of his sisters. Most people passed him by. In the end, that was what saved him. He hid under a table in the wreckage of the dining room and escaped out the window as his family burned with only a gash across his eye. Nobody thought to look for him, because nobody remembered the little Belmont boy. The thought is comforting, in a way. It doesn’t matter if he has his mother’s eyes and his father’s face, because here, all the Belmonts are dead, their ashes scattered to the wind. And besides, he is hardly the noble he was raised. His social graces have disappeared with ten years spent on the road, and his childhood French that used to come as easily as drawing water from a well has long since run dry.

The road to Teregova is as he remembered, with the exception of a fortified wall surrounding the city limits and hastily marked graves littering the open fields. As he approaches the gates, a middle-aged man in dented leather armour points a spear at the wagon and barks, “State your name and business! We are obligated to search your person and your wagon, and please note that Teregova has no more room for refugees.” 

“...Belnades. I’m going to the market. The wagon’s pretty much empty, there’s just a wheelbarrow in it.” The man orders him to dismount, and he climbs down from his seat and shifts on his feet as he rifles through empty feed bags and crates. 

“Security’s pretty tight around here, huh? Last time I…visited, it wasn’t nearly as bad.” The man grunts in response, and gestures back at the wagon. “Times have changed. You’re good to go.” He signals to someone in the gatehouse and the iron portcullis screeches as it lets him in. He hopes the market is still in the same place. The roads are much emptier, and it’s clear that Dracula’s hordes have left their mark here as well. He ties Shitstain and Buttercup to the hitching post and takes the wheelbarrow from the back of the cart. 

Despite everything, the market is bustling and the crush of people has Trevor sweating uncomfortably beneath his shirt. He feels the itch of eyes on his back, and he tells himself over and over that nobody recognises him, they don’t know him and  _ that’s  _ why they’re staring, not because they can tell that he’s the only Belmont they failed to kill.

Mindlessly, he makes his way to the place the baker always set up his stall. He hopes the man’s still alive. He used to give Trevor sweets when he went with his mother as a child. He thought himself too old to run errands with her by the time he turned ten, but now Trevor wants nothing more than to have her by his side again.  _ Trevor, you can pick out a pastry for yourself and some for your sisters,  _ she’d say.  _ Not too big, not too small.  _

To his relief, the baker (his name is Teodor, he remembers now) is still alive, albeit much older and thinner. He’s one of the few men who Trevor actually spoke to at any length, and incidentally was also one of the few who hadn’t participated in the raid. He was hardly a superstitious man, and the rumours never got to him like they did the others. To him the Belmonts were the lords of the land, and he had said that as long as they kept the peace he didn’t much care if they were a little odd. As far as he was concerned, ‘black magic’ was a load of horseshit. Trevor smiles to himself, remembering the conversation where Teodor had articulated this. 

He’d been around thirteen when the rumours started, just old enough to keep conversation with men other than his father, and Teodor had been the first one to get him well and truly drunk. He’d slurred something about people disrespecting the honour of his family in the self-obsessed and blustering way only a teenage boy can, and Teodor had told him that it didn’t matter what rumours spread, as long as he kept his head and did his duty no harm would come to him or his family. He was wrong, in the end, and the thought makes Trevor’s mouth twist into a crooked grin.

He schools his expression into what he hopes is neutral and selects a few loaves of bread. He makes meaningless conversation with Teodor, who talks the same as he did ten years ago: brisk and businesslike. Trevor finds his directness comforting; Sypha and Alucard are both prone to talking in circles. He lingers for a minute after he pays, commenting on the repairs being made around town. If he were a better man, he would offer his help, but he’s a coward and the thought of spending more time than necessary here makes him want to hit something. Before he leaves, he asks, “What do you know about the castle where the Belmont Keep used to be?” and he replies, “It just showed up one day. There’s still night creatures about and most people agree that’s probably where they’re coming from. A few people wanted to storm it and get rid of them all, but we don’t have the manpower to fight more than a few at a time so nothing got done about it.” Thankfully, he doesn’t question why Trevor asked. 

After he bids Teodor farewell, he finishes the rest of the errands. He’s careful to keep his head down, although nobody shows any hint of recognition. Every stall he visits he has to stop himself from pulling out his knife and demanding that every person tell him exactly what they were doing the night his family burned. He picks up bags of flour, oats, potatoes, feed for the horses, fresh vegetables, and as a reward for himself and a treat for the others, a package of hard candies. Trevor’s not one for candy normally, but he thinks he deserves it and besides, Sypha has a hell of a sweet tooth so he tries to pick some up when he can. 

The man at the gate raises a hand to wish him goodbye and Trevor returns the gesture, resisting the urge to make a rude gesture. He might be twenty-five, but he barely got the chance to be an annoying teenager and he  _ really _ wants to make up for lost time. The rest of the short trip passes in a blur of memories. He thinks of Rose and Alina and Sylvia and his mother and his father but most of all he thinks of Sypha and Alucard. 

The twins would have loved Alucard. They were both of a romantic nature, prone to daydreaming about dashing, mysteriously troubled, and conveniently handsome princes. He laughs inwardly thinking of them fawning over Alucard. Despite his wit and manners, the man’s damn awkward when it comes to flirting.

His father and Sypha would have gotten along well too. He was the magical one in the family, bookish and reserved and very  _ very _ smart. Well. Look at that. He’s crying now, and his hands are shaking with rage. He stops the horses and rests his face in his hands. White-knuckled, he digs his fingers into his temples to try and stave off the headache that he can feel forming, but it doesn’t work and he just succumbs to whatever emotion he’s feeling and curls into a ball on the wooden seat of the wagon and screams and cries until he’s wrung out and exhausted and can barely sit upright and hold the reins. The familiar wagon track feels like it’s mocking him. 

_ I’m still here even though your whole family is dead _ , it says.

_ Rose will never head the family like she was supposed to. _

_ Sonia Belmont will not die fighting like she always wanted. _

_ Sylvia and Alina will never marry like they dreamed of.  _

_ You should have died with them. You will spend your life travelling roads just like me but you will never escape their ghosts. You are not the last of the Belmonts. You are a craven man-child playing dress-up with a legacy that is not yours.  _

~~~

When he arrives at the castle, Alucard is out back hanging laundry. It’s painfully domestic and strangely endearing, and although Trevor’s exhausted he feels his heart lift slightly. He chooses not to wonder when exactly Alucard’s presence became  _ comforting _ rather than threatening. 

“Observe! The primitive neanderthal returns from a long day of foraging. He will now retreat to his cave to scratch his bollocks and drink himself into a stupor!” Alucard mocks, a wicked grin on his face. Trevor sighs. Scratch comforting, the man’s a damn pain. 

“What the fuck is a  _ neanderthal _ , Alucard, I’m not in the mood.”

“Right, you wouldn’t know.” Alucard shakes his head and scratches Shitstain on the head. “Nobody recognized you?” 

“Not a soul.” 

“Well, that’s good, I suppose. Did you ask about the castle?” 

Trevor nods. “They think that night creatures come from it, but they’re not going to come close.” He looks Alucard up and down and regrets it instantly because he’s still the hottest thing on two legs Trevor’s seen other than Sypha. “I mean. They’re not entirely wrong. Half a night creature.” 

Once Trevor’s inside and he’s rinsed the dirt of the road off of his skin, he feels a little better. Out of sight of the town, the memories are less close to the surface. Inside Dracula’s—no,  _ Alucard’s  _ castle, he feels like he can have a fresh start. 

Once the three of them are sitting in the kitchen after a meal Trevor cooked them from the food he bought, he feels safer. In their company, he feels like he could make a home here again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ig- @corvidcharmz  
> discord- snickle#1265


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alucard confronts some ghosts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeyyyy this chapter was hard for me to write and i'm still not entirely satisfied with it but here! take my garbage

The subsequent days pass in uneasy companionship. Alucard sleeps in the room next door, and Sypha and Trevor pretend not to hear him cry himself to sleep. Alucard takes them fishing and Sypha laughs so hard she chokes when she watches him crouch over the river like some kind of bear and try to catch a fish with his bare hands. She just summons ice spears instead, and that day they have fried fish with some kind of wild onion and Trevor almost feels normal again. 

But because nothing in Trevor’s life can ever go right, there is still an underlying current of tension between them. They never go in the front doors to the castle, because that’s where the bodies are, and Alucard seems so eager to leave the past behind that they can’t bring themselves to ask him to take them down. All Alucard’s repair efforts are focused on the Hold, so the halls of the castle are still bloodstained and most of the windows are shattered. The castle holds too many memories for Alucard to handle, so Trevor and Sypha explore on their own. Sypha finds workrooms filled with journals and strange glass instruments and spends hours poring over them. It doesn’t take Trevor long to locate the armoury, and he practices his archery since it’s been too long, and when everything gets to be too much he finds a two-handed greatsword and hacks the training dummies to pieces until he can barely lift his arms. His eye catches on a beautiful pair of throwing knives and he can’t stop himself from thinking  _ Rose would have loved these _ . 

~~~

There’s almost a week of peace before things get bad again. Trevor wakes in the middle of the night to dead silence, which in itself is nothing strange, but given that he lives next to a vampire with a tendency to scream-cry in his sleep, it’s a cause for concern. He tugs on Sypha’s bare shoulder and she rolls onto her back, blinking blearily at him and muttering, “Whassit? ‘M sleepy…” Trevor laughs despite himself because  _ damn _ she’s cute when she’s tired. 

“Something’s wrong with Alucard.” She’s alert almost instantly afterwards, pushing the blankets off of her and treading quietly towards the door. 

Alucard’s door is slightly ajar, and when they walk in his bed is deserted. Sypha pats down the blankets and remarks that they’re cold and he probably hasn’t been here for a while. Trevor’s chest is tight with worry and every worst-case scenario is playing behind his eyelids and he  _ hates  _ how helpless he feels. Sypha politely ignores his shaking hands and turns on her heel and walks out the door. She gestures to him to follow and he does, sparing one last glance at Alucard’s empty bed. 

They search the castle top to bottom. Alucard’s not in any of his usual haunts and Trevor feels himself growing more and more frustrated. 

“You know, if he doesn’t want to be found, then maybe we should just…not look for him?” 

Sypha hits him on the back of the head. “Don’t be stupid, Trevor. Of course we’re going to look for him. If he’s hurt and we didn’t do anything I don’t think I could forgive myself.” Trevor just nods wordlessly. 

A couple of minutes later they’re in the entrance hall and Sypha notices scuff marks in the thick layer of dust. They haven’t been in here since that first night when Alucard held his blade up to Sypha’s throat and broke down crying on the flagstones. It’s raining outside, and it drips through one of the great holes in the ceiling to puddle on the ground. The water lifts the dried blood from the floor and stains the water red. The castle feels as dismal as it was when they arrived. They share a glance and the look in Sypha’s eyes says she knows where Alucard is too. 

The first thing they see when they step out into the rainy night is Alucard’s blond head bent over the ground. He’s scrabbling at something in the dirt and when he looks up at them his eyes are red-rimmed and unseeing. The bottom drops out of Trevor’s stomach and he runs to Alucard and drops to his knees in front of him, whispering, “What the fuck were you doing? Shitty vampire.” Alucard just shakes his head violently and continues digging. Trevor grabs his wrists to try and stop him but he’s too damn  _ strong  _ and he just breaks his hold with a snarl and sinks his hands back into the rain-soaked earth. 

“Sypha! He won’t listen to me,” Trevor shouts over the distant thunder. 

“What the hell is he  _ doing? _ ” She replies, tugging at Alucard’s shoulders. He doesn’t even seem to feel it. Tears start to spill from her eyes, and she cups Alucard’s face in her hands and presses their foreheads together. 

“Alucard,” She whispers, “Please talk to us…” The desperation in her voice seems to pierce through whatever fog he’s lost in. He blinks and then gathers Sypha into his arms. 

“I have to— I have to bury them,” He explains, voice hitching. “Go back to bed. Just— please let me do this.” Sypha wraps her arms around him, fingers digging into the soaked fabric of his sleep shirt. 

“It’s two in the fucking morning,” Trevor protests. “You don’t even have a shovel. You can’t dig two graves with your bare hands, Alucard.” Alucard glares at him. 

“You don’t understand, Trevor, I  _ have  _ to do this otherwise I’ll—” He stops abruptly. 

“You’ll what?” Sypha whispers against Alucard’s neck. 

“I’ll be just like him.” 

There is a pregnant pause. Alucard’s face is twisted into something unrecognizable, transformed by a grief too large for him to carry. 

“Fine. If you have to do this now, let us help.” Trevor extends his hand to help Alucard up. He hesitates, then takes it. His fingers are freezing, nails ripped down to the beds and bloody. 

“You don’t have to carry this alone, Alucard.” Sypha takes his other hand. He doesn’t respond, but there is an unspoken thanks in the way he laces his fingers with theirs. 

~~~

They find some shovels buried in a pile of rusted tools in a dusty corner of the hold and take them up to the front of the castle. Alucard hasn’t made much headway with just his hands. There’s a messy hole about six inches deep and three feet long to the left side of the doors and a vague tearing in the grass that marks where the other grave will be. Sypha raises an eyebrow at the placement and turns to look at Alucard. 

“Are you sure you want to bury them here?” She asks, and Alucard hums in response. 

“I suppose not… it’s rather exposed, isn’t it.” His gaze shifts towards the woods. “I think I know a better place.” 

~~~

They find themselves in a small clearing. The hard-packed earth is slippery and wet, but it still shows footprints and scuff marks, as well as several arrow holes and long scores that are reminiscent of sword marks. 

“I trained them here,” Alucard clarifies. “Taught them to kill vampires.” 

The irony is not lost on Trevor, and he laughs bitterly. “Might have been a mistake.” 

Alucard nods. “Perhaps.” 

Alucard picks a spot near the edge of the clearing, where the ground is softer. He takes his shovel and goes to work without ceremony, parting the earth with a vigor that belies his inhuman strength. 

Digging seems cathartic to him. Trevor watches the hard line of his mouth, the tense curve of his shoulders and the tight-corded muscles in his forearms relax, giving way to an exhausted calm. Trevor can’t tear his eyes away from the broad plane of his back and the pale column of his neck. He’s ethereally beautiful, pale as a ghost against the dark forest. The rain traces the contours of his face like tears, slipping down to rest in his clavicle. Trevor feels a bizarre desire to kiss him there. His face heats and he returns his focus to the pit they’re digging. It’s hard work, made harder by the freezing rain and slippery mud. Trevor finds himself sweating despite the cold, and his muscles are cramped and aching by the time he and Sypha finish hollowing out the grave. 

“Thank you.” Alucard says softly. “Will you help me take them here?” Trevor grimaces at the thought of carrying the festering bodies all the way to the woods, but he nods. 

The problem of the bodies resolves itself almost instantly when they return to the castle. Sypha summons two sheets of ice to float the corpses on. They walk soberly back to the clearing, followed by the makeshift funeral coach. 

They bury them with little formalities. Alucard closes their eyes before lowering them into the ground. They take his hands again. 

“Do you want to say anything?” Sypha probes. Alucard’s shoulders slump, and his eyes grow misty with tears. He drops to his knees in front of the graves, a gesture of supplication that turns Trevor’s stomach. 

“I’m sorry.” Alucard whispers. He stands up again, and leads them back towards the castle. 

~~~

Once inside, they stagger into Alucard’s room and peel off their sodden clothes with little regard to propriety. Trevor finds a stack of towels and they dry each other off in a haze of exhaustion. Alucard’s too spent to cry any more, it seems, so they just hold him and he collapses to fit the shape of their arms. Trevor stands reluctantly to grab his and Sypha’s sleeping clothes, and when he returns Alucard is lying down with his head pillowed across Sypha’s bare thighs. The sight is so painfully domestic, it sends a sharp stab of longing into Trevor’s chest and he has to look away. He tosses a nightgown onto the bed for Sypha as he steps into a pair of pants. Alucard’s wearing a ridiculously frilly shirt and Trevor would make fun of him for it, but he manages to wear it with his usual elegance which is  _ really _ not fair, Trevor thinks. 

“We should sleep,” Sypha whispers. Alucard nods vehemently and falls back onto the blankets. Trevor takes Sypha’s hand and moves to leave the room, but Alucard catches his wrist and pulls him back. 

“Stay,” He murmurs, “For tonight.” Trevor sighs and lies down on the bed beside him, Sypha on his other side. Alucard hums happily and wraps an arm around Sypha’s waist, pulling her closer. His back is pressed up against Trevor’s chest and he hopes Alucard can’t feel the rabbit-quick beat of his heart. Cautiously, he rests an arm on the taper of his waist. Alucard makes no attempt to move him so he stays that way, intertwining his fingers with Sypha’s and allowing the cool dark of sleep to take him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ig- @corvidchamz  
> discord- snickle#1265


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another piece falls into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, yall. i'm mega depressed :sunglasses:

Trevor wakes in parts. He’s first aware of a comforting weight on his chest. He registers that it’s warm, but not oppressively so, and on instinct, he wraps an arm around it and pulls it close. He gets a faceful of blond hair and he mumbles something incoherent and pushes Alucard’s head away— 

_Oh._ Alucard’s in his bed.

 _Shit_. Alucard’s in his _bed_. 

He moves to shake him awake, but it dawns on Trevor that this is the first night he hasn’t been woken up by screaming, so he sighs and resigns himself to another couple hours of Alucard drooling on his chest. Fucking gross. Sypha stirs on Alucard’s other side. She buries her face in the junction of Alucard’s shoulder, and then rolls over and adds her weight to the 160 pounds of vampire already on him. Trevor huffs out a breath. He flicks Sypha’s shoulder and she glares at him, eyes blurry with sleep. _If you wake him up,_ she mouths, _I’ll kill you._ She drives that last point home by tracing a finger across her throat with her free hand. Trevor gulps and nods. _Wasn’t planning on it,_ he mouths back. She smiles at him softly, and closes her eyes against the bright morning sun. 

~~~

Trevor can pinpoint the exact second Alucard stirs awake, because he feels the flutter of eyelashes against his collarbone (which tickles, _holy shit_ ) and the sudden tensing of Alucard’s shoulders. Alucard lifts his head and blinks slowly at him, pupils contracting in the mid-morning sun. 

“Ugh…” He mutters, drawing a hand across his face. “What’s the time?” 

Trevor shrugs. “Dunno. Ten, maybe?” Alucard grunts in assent and rests his head back on Trevor. He brings his hand up to place it over Trevor’s pectoral, and Trevor sucks in a breath that Alucard can _definitely_ hear, that smug shit, and resolutely ignores the violent blush spreading over his face. 

“Oi. Vampire. Hands off my tits.” 

Alucard smiles into his shirt and utters a muffled “No.” 

“If you’re in the mood for some tits, Sypha’s _right there_.” 

Sypha rolls her eyes. “Trevor, your tits are bigger than mine and you know it.” 

“My tits are _normal_ size, I’ll have you know—”  
“Yeah, normal for a _back-alley whore_ ,” Sypha scoffs. 

“Whatever. You’re just jealous.” 

“Of your obscenely large jugs? Never.”

“Please _do not call them that_ , Jesus.” Alucard hisses. 

“Well, what would you rather I call them?” Sypha laughs, throwing her head back in a display of mirth that leaves Trevor (and Alucard) breathless. 

“I don’t know, _breasts_? Like a normal person?” Alucard mutters, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the direction their conversation has taken. 

“Fine. Trevor has massive _breasts_ which are most definitely more worthy of fondling than mine. That better?” 

Alucard sputters something incoherent that sounds sort of like _no I will not be doing that today, thank you very much_ and hides his face. It’s really fucking cute and Trevor kind of wants to die. 

~~~

They manage to drag themselves out of bed by early afternoon, once Trevor’s entire left side goes numb and the grumbles of Sypha’s stomach start to drown out their soft banter. Sypha tries to make toast with her flames but just ends up turning it to ash and leaving a massive scorch mark on the table. Alucard scolds her for wasting bread, but the effect is somewhat dampened by the breathless laughter that keeps escaping from him. 

  
  


~~~

Alucard sits with his legs drawn up beneath him on one of the rickety kitchen tables, scribbling furiously on a sheet of parchment. He looks like an elegant gargoyle. Sypha hunches her shoulders and pulls an odd face, imitating him, and Trevor claps a hand over his mouth to try and stifle the laughter that threatens to escape. 

“Why the fuck are you sitting like that?” Sypha chokes out.

Alucard scowls at her. “My legs are too long and they hit the bottom of the table. You’d think that Dracula would have his tables made to match the fact that he was _eight fucking feet tall_ , but I guess not.” Sypha nods sagely, like all the mysteries of the world have been explained to her. 

“Wh— Alucard, we’re the _same height_ , how?” Trevor sputters. 

Alucard looks slightly put out. “I’m taller, just for the record. And my legs are much longer.” 

“Yep,” Sypha says, “He’s like a beanpole and you’re like a…I don’t know. A brick, maybe?” 

“God, whatever. Let’s just finish this.” 

_This_ is Alucard’s horrible, terrible, very bad plan for rehabilitating the castle. The list of tasks is a mile long and they keep finding new things to add to it. The first order of business is to drag all the shit that Alucard threw out of his room off the lawn and at least into the castle so that Alucard can move back into his room. Trevor doesn’t want Alucard to move back to his room, but that’s beside the point. 

To Alucard’s dismay, most of the stuff’s been ruined by weeks outside exposed to the elements. Trevor picks up a leather-bound book and tries to separate the pages, but they’re completely glued together and trying is mostly pointless. 

“ _Oedipus Rex_. A shame. I quite liked that one,” Alucard comments dryly. Sypha gasps happily, and replies, “I know that one!... ‘They are dying, the old oracles sent to Laius, now our masters strike them off the rolls. Nowhere Apollo's golden glory now—the gods, the gods go down.’ It was one of the first classics I had to memorize.” She bites her lip, thinking. “I think I still remember most of it. If you want another copy I can recite it for you.” Alucard starts, taken aback. 

“Really? You would—you would do that?” The disbelieving note in his voice is painful to hear. It’s the sound of a man who’s been deprived of kindness for too long that even the smallest drop feels like an ocean. 

Sypha smiles sadly. “Anything, Alucard.” She tentatively places a hand on his back. “I’d do anything.” Trevor steps back, letting them have a moment together, but he overhears Sypha whisper three words under her breath that make his chest burn pleasantly. Alucard turns his head away, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Don’t—Don’t toy with me, Sypha. I can’t—” He mutters, voice hitching. She pulls him into a tight embrace, caressing the back of his head and stroking his hair. 

“I’m not toying with you. I have never been more serious in my life.” Trevor can’t quite hear what Alucard says next, but Sypha’s face splits into a brilliant smile and she presses her lips to Alucard’s in a tender kiss. Alucard starts, but then relaxes and brings his hand up to tip Sypha’s chin for a better angle and Trevor can practically feel her sigh against his lips. They’re beautiful together. Something clicks into place inside him. It’s _so close_ to perfect. He’s the only thing that’s missing. But he can’t bring himself to step in, to pull Alucard close to him and tell him how much he loves him, loves him, _loves him_. His feet are anchored to the ground.

~~~ 

The atmosphere of their little trio changes in several ways after the afternoon on the lawn. Firstly, Alucard laughs more. Proper laughs, too, that leave him breathless and flushed and gorgeous. Secondly, Alucard flirts with Trevor. Excessively. And not very well. It’d be hilarious, except for the fact that it’s _actually working,_ despite Trevor’s best efforts. He generally considers himself to be above falling for the ‘I’m going to ‘stretch’ and _accidentally_ drape my arm across your shoulders’ trick, but evidently he’s wrong because Alucard _keeps fucking doing it_ and Trevor blushes like a little girl every time. 

Evidently Alucard’s pathetic attempts at seduction are even more effective on Sypha (Although that might have to do with the fact that voicing her feelings doesn’t cause her to fall into a deadly spiral of self-hatred), because Trevor keeps running into them in various _compromising_ positions that he’d normally be happy about, except for the fact that he can’t join in. He’d be welcome, he knows, but as thrilling as the thought of being sandwiched between the two of them is, it disgusts him in equal measure. Every time Alucard flashes his stupid fangs at him he’s reminded of the fact that he’s not normal, an abomination against God, which shouldn’t bother him (given that he’s excommunicated and all) but every time gives in to his baser instincts and allows himself to think about Alucard there’s a bitter feeling in his throat that tastes of failure. But yeah, he’s not fussing about it because it’s _almost_ as good when he spots Sypha straddling Alucard in the library, or on the kitchen table, or the armoury, or… any of the other places that _aren’t_ a bed. Trevor’s not _complaining,_ but seriously. Beds exist for a reason. At least when he has a turn with Sypha they have the decency to do it behind a closed door. (Actually, that’s not true. They’re just as guilty). Point is, Trevor needs to either get over himself and let Alucard rail him into next Sunday, or get rid of his feelings. 

It feels like the latter would be easier, honestly. Which is how Trevor ends up with the loose outline of a plan: one that involves a cart, a church (for the first time in several years), and probably a whole fucking lot of booze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed the gratuitous description of trevor's tits. kind of hate this chapter tho haha. anyways talk to me on my socials and tell me what you think abt this fic!! i love interacting with yall it gives me motivation to write and actually finish this fic lol  
> ig- @corvicharmz  
> discord- snickle#1265


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor gets some important advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS IS SO LATE.... I AM DEPRESSED

Nowhere in Teregova (or anywhere else, for that matter) has escaped the ravages of Dracula’s hordes. The chapel is no exception, despite its consecrated ground. There is a ragged hole in the roof that’s been hastily patched, and although the walls have been scrubbed furiously, there are still faint bloodstains on the cracked stone walls. The great rose window is still intact, however, and it reflects the hot afternoon sunlight directly into his eyes. Trevor tugs the hood of his cloak further over his face, shrouding his features in shadow. His heart is rabbit-fast in his chest. 

Trevor is no longer a man who shies away from doing what’s necessary. The drinking, running coward died with Dracula nine months ago. But faced with this crumbling chapel, he almost wants to turn back, find the shitty little tavern next to the market, and drink himself into a stupor so he can forget all about this insanity. He goes so far as to pull out his coin pouch, but then he remembers that the coin he has is technically Alucard’s, and he’s not as much of an asshole as he used to be, and blowing Alucard’s money to try and forget about the fact that he’s in love with him would be somewhat discourteous. He puts his coin pouch away. 

Shaking his head, Trevor bites the bullet and walks up to the front doors. One is cracked open. 

A shaft of sunlight pierces the dusty interior of the chapel. The Virgin Mary stares down at him from the stained glass windows, one arm curled protectively around her child. Even when he turns away, he can feel her gaze on the back of his neck. 

_ Do not touch my child, _ she says. 

_ I will not have you hurt him, here in the house of his Father.  _

Trevor shivers, and continues walking. The air is still and cool, the silence stifling. Even the shuffle of Trevor’s feet on the flagstones feels sacrilegious somehow. Deserted but for an old woman sitting in one of the far pews, the chapel has the solemn air of a tomb. Trevor shivers. The confession box is sequestered away to the side, hidden by a red curtain, and thankfully it’s empty, and there’s no line. 

Trevor takes a deep breath, and parts the curtain to sit inside the stiflingly hot interior. He shifts awkwardly and opens his mouth to speak, and then stops. 

“Be welcome, my child,” A disembodied voice says from behind a wooden screen. The screen blurs the features of the priest into an unrecognizable mask, and Trevor takes comfort in the fact that the priest probably can’t make out his face either. He makes the sign of the cross, uncomfortably aware of how disjointed his movements are. 

“Bless me,” His voice breaks, and he begins again. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been…Several years? I think? Since my last confession.” He shifts in his seat and clears his throat awkwardly. 

“So. I figure I should just—get it all out.” 

The priest chuckles. Trevor glares halfheartedly and then remembers he can’t see him. 

“I’m—” His throat closes up and his cheeks burn in humiliation. He can feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. 

“Take as much time as you need. There’s no rush.” The note of pity in the priests voice turns his stomach with rage. He clenches his fists and takes a shaky breath, trying to tamp down the flood of panic and shame rising inside him. The priest coughs gently. 

“I’m in love with a man,” Trevor spits, “Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“I did not  _ want  _ to hear anything. This is your confession. You may say what you wish.” The priest’s tone is mild, showing no surprise or disgust at Trevor’s confession. 

“I believe my feelings are returned. I—if he approached me, I don’t think I’d be able to tell him no.” Tears start to spill from the corners of his eyes. 

“I am—I am sorry for this, and all my sins.” Trevor laces his fingers in his lap, twisting his hands anxiously. 

The priest hums. He seems to be carefully choosing his words. “Do you know why this is a sin?” 

Trevor laughs bitterly. “Leviticus. If a man lies with a male as he lies with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination.” 

“I did not ask for you to quote the Bible. I am a man of God. I know it better than I know myself. Listen carefully, my child: what you feel is not  _ love _ . The sacred love between husband and wife is impossible between two men. It is against our creation. If you engage in any kind of relation with this man, you are disobeying the nature that God Himself gave us. Through prayer you may be cleansed of this sinful desire, but only if you truly mean to change. Without it, you are doomed.” 

Trevor thinks of the long line of Alucard’s back, the taper of his waist, the subtle flash of his fangs. 

“Well. Still a sinner, unfortunately. Can you go ahead and give me my penance so I can be done with this whole ordeal?” 

The priest sighs deeply. “Your penance is ten Hail Marys. Remember that remorse is not enough; you must also  _ change your behaviour _ . Your condition is deplorable, but with the guidance of the Lord you can be healed. If you have no more to confess, I will absolve you. I wish you all the best.” 

“Right. That’s it, I suppose.” He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

The priest gives another gusty, long-suffering sigh. “God, the Father of Mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son, has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins.” 

Trevor’s shoulders begin to shake. His fingernails bite into the backs of his hands as he grits his teeth. 

“Through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sin In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” The priest finishes his prayer and falls silent again. 

“Well. Thanks, I guess. Don’t feel much different, but I suppose we can’t have everything, hm?” Trevor ignores his shaking legs, brushes the curtain aside, and steps back into the dusty chapel. Rage twists his stomach into knots. 

_ Stupid fucking priests. _ Trevor slams the door of the church behind him, startling a flock of pigeons from the roof. He stomps over to the wagon and hauls himself onto the flat seat. Twitching the reins, he sets a course for the tavern. 

~~~

After there’s a pint of beer in his system, the rage turns into sickening guilt. Trevor can barely feel the effects of the alcohol, but the feeling of the tankard in his hand brings him back to the pit of self-loathing that he’s so accustomed to. He swipes a hand over his face, dragging it across the puckered skin of his scar. 

“Man up, shithead,” He says to himself. He glances around frantically to see if anyone’s heard him, but it’s only noon and he’s the only poor sod to be out drinking at lunchtime. 

The door of the tavern swings shut as another person walks in. Trevor curses his horrible luck and tugs his cloak further over his face, hiding it in shadow. 

“Oh, it’s you,” says a familiar voice from behind him. 

_ Motherfucker _ . 

“Thought you were just passing through?” 

Trevor groans internally and turns around to face Teodor. 

“Yeah. Decided to stay a while.” 

Teodor’s eyebrow cocks. “Right, because Teregova’s such a charming town.” He sits down on the stool next to Trevor, signalling for the barkeep to bring him a tankard. His eyes narrow in scrutiny. “You seem familiar.” 

Trevor scratches the back of his neck. “Um. Funny, that.” Not his most eloquent, but he blames the beer for that (he hasn’t had enough to even be drunk-adjacent, but that’s beside the point). 

Teodor sighs deeply. “Look. I’m not gonna beat around the bush here. You’re here for a reason. And given,” He gestures at Trevor’s morningstar, “That, I’m guessing it’s not particularly friendly.” 

Trevor feels a bead of nervous sweat at his temple and wipes it away. “Would you believe me if I said I was visiting family?” 

Teodor’s face is stony. “No. Who are you.” 

Laughing, Trevor mutters, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He takes a deep breath. “You do know me, though.” 

“What’s your name,” Teodor presses. 

“Belmont. Trevor Belmont.” 

Teodor squints. “Prove it.” 

“You got me drunk when I was thirteen and my mother was so angry she bought bread from Simion instead for an entire month.” Trevor leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. “That good enough?” 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Teodor chuckles, “It really is you! Tell me, how’d you swing that one?” 

Stiffening, Trevor mutters, “I’d rather not talk about it.” 

Teodor nods and claps Trevor on the shoulder. “So, kid. Let’s hear what you’ve been up to.” 

~~~

“So,” Teodor says, words slightly slurred, “You gonna tell me why you’re back in town?” 

“S’like I said,” Trevor mutters, “Visiting.” 

“Nothin’ to do with that big ol’ castle over there?” 

“Might have something to do with it,” Trevor concedes, and takes another swig. He’s only barely buzzed after his second tankard and curses the tolerance he’s built up. He’s not nearly drunk enough to get into all this. 

~~~

After a sixth pint, his tongue is much looser. 

“So we after we went and killed fucking  _ Dracula,  _ Sypha and I fucked off like idiots and left Alucard all alone in the castle and shit happened, but now we’re  _ back  _ and we’re so close to being together again like we  _ should  _ be, but we aren’t and it’s my fault because I’m stupid—My god I’m fucking drunk.” 

Teodor laughs sharply and smacks his back. Trevor spits out his mouthful of beer and glares half-heartedly at him. Teodor's expression grows serious again, and he rests his chin on his hand. 

“What’s stopping you?” Teodor muses, tracing his other hand around the rim of his tankard. 

“I mean,” Trevor gestures wildly at the interior of the tavern, “Can you imagine if the people in this town learned that there was a vampire—”

“I thought he was only half vampire.” 

“ _ Half _ -vampire, whatever. Ugh, where was I?” Trevor slurs. 

“Somethin’ about the people in this town?” Teodor replies.

“Riiight, right. I can hardly see this tiny little town in the middle of buttfuck nowhere taking kindly to a threesome consisting of an excommunicant, a vampire, and a magician. I mean, can you imagine? They’d probably shit themselves and die.”

“God, I’d pay to see that,” Teodor chuckles, “But I think that you’re underestimating people’s capacity for change.” 

“Look. I’m not risking it. I already—” 

“Lost your family, I know. I know,” Teodor soothes, “That you’re scared. But you’re letting that fear get in the way of your happiness, Trevor.” 

Trevor pointedly refuses to make eye contact with him.

“The three of you killed the most powerful vampire in Wallachia. Do you honestly think that a mob with pitchforks will be any match for you?” He smacks the edge of Trevor’s jaw, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Listen to me, boy. If you let them slip through your fingers, you will regret it for the rest of your life. Nothing is worth that pain.” He smiles sadly. “Your partners are more than capable. You don’t need to protect them. You just need to love them.” 

Trevor stands up abruptly, hastily scrubbing the tears off his face. He tosses a coin at the barkeep and slams the door of the tavern behind him. 

~~~

On the wagon ride home, Teodor’s words echo through his head. 

_ If you let them slip through your fingers, you will regret it for the rest of your life.  _

_ You don’t need to protect them. You just need to love them.  _

Trevor smiles softly, and starts to form a new plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lolololol just cliffhanger tingz.... see y'all in either a week or a month we'll see how it goes akshfkjdh


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor makes a confession of another kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is by and large my favourite chapter so far!! i'm sorry it took me so long, school is kicking my ass and i really wanted to get this right. also sorry to all my irls who read this, this chapter is SUPER horny and i hope you'll still be able to look me in the eyes after you read it

“You’re drunk,” Sypha remarks when Trevor stumbles in through the side door of the castle. 

“Yep,” He acknowledges with an incline of his head, “Don’t let me do anything stupid.” 

“Uh- _huh_. Where were you?” 

Trevor scratches the back of his neck. “Well. I went to church,” 

“The fuck did you do that for?” Sypha interrupts, and Trevor shrugs and says,

“I thought it’d help?”

“With _what_?” 

“Oh, you know,” He mutters, “The whole being in love with Alucard thing.” Sypha squeals happily, throws her arms around his neck, and kisses him thoroughly. He’s a little too drunk to participate properly, but he enjoys it nonetheless. 

“I’m so _excited_!” She yells directly into his ear (ouch), “You’ve finally admitted it!” Trevor winces and puts a forearm’s length of distance between them. 

“Yes. Well. There’s no need to make a production of it.” He counters, blushing. 

“It only took you…” She taps a finger on her lips in thought. “Nine months?” She grins wickedly. “You two have been dancing around each other for so long I thought I was actually going to die of secondhand embarrassment.” 

Trevor raises an eyebrow. “I mean. I only noticed after we had to help him take that fucking bath.” 

Sypha throws her hands in the air in frustration. “Trevor, he literally _sat on your lap_ within _ten minutes_ of meeting you! I don’t know what about that doesn’t scream ‘I want to fuck you!’” 

“He was _trying to kill me_ , Sypha!” 

“You liked it,” She snickers, “Don’t try and pretend you didn’t.” 

At this point, Trevor’s blush has travelled all the way down to his chest. 

“Anyways, when are you planning on telling him?” Sypha gushes, wrapping her arms around his waist. 

“When I’ve sobered up,” He replies, dragging a hand through his hair. “Speaking of which, I’m going to go…Do that. Yeah.” 

“Want a hand with that?” Sypha says coyly, tapping a hand on his hip. 

“Um.” 

She grins, and leads him up the stairs. 

~~~

“This—” Trevor mutters in between kisses, “Is not helping with my condition.” 

“You like it, though,” Sypha replies against his lips. Trevor doesn’t respond, opting to instead wrap an arm firmly around her bare waist and pull her farther onto his lap. She sighs against his lips, tugging lightly on his hair. Trevor hums happily, and catches her bottom lip between his teeth. Gasping, she properly yanks on his hair and Trevor _definitely_ doesn’t whimper. 

“You know, Alucard likes having his hair pulled too,” She whispers and _holy shit_ , that’s an image that’s in his head now. “You should probably sober up fast. I’m getting impatient.” 

“You’re not helping,” Trevor retorts, “In fact, I think you might just be making things worse.” 

“Do you want me to get off?” 

“...No.” 

~~~

Sypha does, eventually, get off him, but only after she’s exhausted both of them quite thoroughly. Trevor thinks he might have been more sober before. Sypha exhales a pleased hum, scratching at Trevor’s head where it’s pillowed in her lap. She looks like a cat who got the cream. She strokes a hair away from his face, smiling softly. Her big blue eyes are misty with affection as Trevor presses a kiss against her inner thigh. 

“Calm down,” She laughs, “I’m not ready to go again!” 

“What, am I not allowed to appreciate you?” 

“No.” She taps the tip of his nose. “You always have ulterior motives.” 

Trevor gasps in mock surprise. “How dare you? My intentions are _good_ and _pure_.” 

“Bold talk for someone currently staring at my tits, Belmont,” Sypha accuses, grinning wickedly. 

“Touche,” Trevor chuckles. “In all fairness, though, they’re quite nice to look at.” Sypha just smiles wider and pulls him up to rest his head on her shoulder. They’re silent for a couple of minutes, just enjoying each other’s company. 

“I’m happy.” Sypha states, sounding vaguely surprised. 

“Hm,” Trevor kisses her neck. “I’d hope so.” 

“No, really. I am.” She pauses, lost in thought. “I’ve never…felt the need to stay in one place for too long. Speakers are a nomadic culture, but if I’m being honest? A lot of that comes from decades of running from the church rather than any specific ideology. When I was with my caravan, I never really saw the appeal in having a home— I always associated staying put with being killed. But now? I have…A place to go back to, I think. A place where I’m safe. Because that’s what a home is, isn’t it? It’s a place you know you can always go _back_ to, rather than a place you never leave.” She takes a deep breath. “Wow. That was a lot.” 

“No, I think you’re right.” Trevor strokes a thumb over her cheekbone. “I don’t think you’re ever going to want to stop wandering— It’s in,” He places the pads of his fingers over her heart, “Here. It’s in your blood. But…I trust you to come back. And you can trust that Alucard and I will be here waiting for you. Or coming with you, if that’s what you want. I mean— I can’t speak for him, but I know that I’d follow you anywhere.” 

Sypha sniffs, and Trevor tactfully ignores it. 

“I love you, you stupid man.” 

Trevor laughs, face buried in her neck. “Love you too.” 

“So, on a scale from one to ten…How sober are you feeling?” 

“You’re not going to leave me alone until I tell him, are you?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

Trevor smiles, and shakes his head. “I suppose I’m alright.”

“That’s not a number, Belmont.” 

“Christ, you’re so fucking picky—”

She shuts him up with a kiss. 

~~~

“God, Sypha, I don’t know if I can do this—” 

“Shut up,” She interrupts him, “You helped kill fucking Dracula. You can tell a man you love him.” 

Trevor rolls onto his back, throwing an arm over his face. “He’s such a pretentious fuck, he probably expects me to _court_ him or something.” 

Sypha sighs deeply. “Trevor, I love you, but your head is so far up your ass I’m surprised you don’t shit eyeballs.” 

He raises an eyebrow. That’s an especially…creative insult, even for her. 

“Trevor. I told him I loved him while we were cleaning up the soggy pieces of furniture that he _threw out of his window_ in a fit of self-loathing. I’m pretty sure he cried. Trust me on this, his standards are about as low as yours.” 

Oh. She might have a point. 

“Just _tell him,_ Trevor,” She shakes her head. “Honestly, there’s no wonder you’re both miserable.” 

Is he miserable? Trevor doesn’t think he’s miserable. Actually, right now he feels quite good. He tells Sypha so in as many words, and she just sighs deeply and yanks him to his feet. 

“Come on. Let’s get you laid,” Sypha smacks his ass as he stands up, which is quite frankly unnecessary as he was planning on getting up anyways, but he digresses. 

~~~

Sypha leaves him outside the library in the east wing. It’s one of the first rooms that they repaired, and it’s quickly become one of Alucard’s favourite spots. Trevor will most likely find him draped over one of the cushy armchairs, either with one leg draped over an armrest or upside down, with his legs thrown over the back. Alucard’s aversion to sitting like a normal human being is a frequent point of discussion between the three of them—Sypha postulates that it’s because Alucard’s half-vampire, so hanging upside down like a bat is just second nature to him. Trevor thinks it’s because he’s just a dramatic bastard, but he keeps that to himself. 

His suspicions are confirmed when he walks through the doorway. Alucard’s taken the upside-down route today, it seems. The only indication that he’s noticed Trevor is a slight twitch of his ears (they wiggle when he hears something, a bit like a cat). The lettering on the spine of the book is in Greek, but Trevor recognizes it as his favourite copy of _Lysistrata_. Alucard’s pale lips are moving ever so slightly as he reads, and the tiny hint of pearl-white fangs is captivating. 

Alucard was always beautiful. From the moment he emerged pale and cold from that stupid coffin, he was eye-catching. But he was so in a way that an icy forest was, or the vast expanse of the night sky: distant and unapproachable. But here, in his father’s library, haloed in the fractured sunlight streaming from the mullioned windows, he looks painfully and beautifully human; flesh and blood and bone just like him. Trevor is so hopelessly in love with him. 

Alucard finally drops (read: gently places) his book on the floor next to his head and raises his eyebrow quizzically.

“Did you need something or did you just come here to stare at me?”

Trevor scratches the back of his head. It feels like his entire body is burning up. “Well. I—Perhaps? Yes. I did. I wanted to—” He cuts himself off, dragging a hand through his hair. 

Alucard hauls himself upright, arranging himself on the chair so that his legs are thrown over the armrest. “Take your time,” He snickers. 

“Um. Well. What I mean to say, is that—” There’s a buzz of panic in the back of his mind that’s rapidly overpowering any of his higher brain function. Alucard looks at him bemusedly. 

“I’vebeeninlovewithyouformonthsandit’sdrivingmecrazysoIthoughtI’dletyouknow?” 

Alucard looks at him blankly. “What did you say?” 

Trevor takes a deep breath. “I’m. Um. I might be a bit in love with you?” 

Alucard’s face looks like he’s been hit with a brick. Trevor drops to his knees in front of him, and grabs his slender hands in his larger ones. His cheekbones are a very nice pink colour, but he still doesn’t respond. 

“I’m sorry—” Trevor whispers. “I didn’t want to…lie by omission. You deserved to know.” 

Alucard’s fingers tighten in his hold. “Say it again,” He demands.

“What?"

“Say it again. I need—”

“I love you,” Trevor interrupts. He kisses Alucard’s knuckles. “I love you. I’ll say it as many times as it takes.”

Alucard lets out a choked sob. Trevor tugs at his hip until he faces him properly. Rising onto his knees so that he’s at Alucard’s eye level, Trevor presses their foreheads together. He thumbs away the tears forming at the corners of Alucard’s golden eyes. 

“I think I might die if you don’t kiss me,” Alucard admits breathily, and Trevor smiles a little. 

“We can’t have that,” Trevor says, and then gently presses their lips together. 

All things considered, it’s a very nice kiss. Alucard’s lips are chapped but Trevor doesn’t really mind because Alucard’s mouth on his feels like closure, like a confession, like the answer to a question he didn’t even know he was asking. 

They kiss for a while. Trevor ends up straddling Alucard on the chair, with Alucard’s hands clutching at his waist and curling into his hair. He’s surprisingly attentive, and sweetly responsive to everything Trevor does. Trevor opens his mouth against Alucard’s and traces the seam of his lips with his tongue, and Alucard makes a small surprised noise but lets Trevor in, and it’s so fucking _good_ that Trevor stops thinking altogether and just presses himself as close to Alucard as he can. When he pulls away to breathe, Alucard’s normally pale lips are bitten pink and he’s flushing all the way down to his neck. 

“I love you,” Alucard whispers breathlessly, and Trevor just smiles in response and kisses Alucard’s pulse point. Pressed as close as they are, Trevor can _feel_ Alucard’s breath hitch, so he darts his tongue out to lick at the skin there and Alucard’s fingers clench a little tighter in his hair, holding him against his neck. Emboldened, Trevor nips at his neck and when Alucard inhales sharply, he bites down properly and Alucard moans loudly and unabashedly. Trevor gently kisses the teeth marks he’s left and then moves back to Alucard’s mouth. 

“Figures you’d be into biting,” Alucard remarks against his lips, “I mean, you’re halfway to being an animal already—”  
“Shut up,” Trevor growls. 

Alucard smirks wickedly. “Why don’t you make me, Belmont?”

Trevor just grins in response and slides off Alucard’s lap, sinking to his knees on the plush carpeting. 

Alucard shuts up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fucking finally!!! stick around until the end of the fic tho... there's still more to come :)


End file.
